Melody Wilson

Tongue Prophecy

We know Death is a
moth-eating liar
from his crude

display of the elements
of grief.  Mourners
stumble toward sanctuary,

adopt the vowels of loss,
speckle the naked ankles
of time. What an act.

The cat knows this—
dissolves the list of preconceptions
we voice

with each sandy lick of its paws.
Balloon, it says,
in one pink stroke,

God, it says in another.  It glows through eyes
glassy as moons, yawns,
whispers soberly, museum,

lake, tree.  Your arrival, your exit,
no distractions.  Everything is salt.
Lick it off.

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Melody Wilson teaches writing and literature in Portland, Oregon. She received an Academy of American Poets Award before beginning her teaching career. She returned to poetry in 2019 and received a 2020 Kay Snow Poetry Award and a 2021 Oregon Poetry Association Award. Recent work appears in One Art Poetry Review, Quartet and Briar Cliff Review. Upcoming work will be in Cirque, Tar River Poetry, Whale Road Review, Timberline Review, SWWIM and Amsterdam Quarterly.