Not only words in his mouth
but what look like feathers,
clamped tight in his teeth
like an anxious gambler’s cigarette.
Cat eyed and smiling at the bar,
he caught beauty perched on a stool
and swallowed it in one bite.
Now odd notes issue from his throat.
His words come out as songs.
Mark Folse lives and writes in postdiluvian New Orleans. He posts poetry at poemsbeforebreakfast.blogspot.com and chronicles his life in NOLA at Toulouse Street-Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans. http://toulousestreet.net