The Desert Mourns

The village fountain mourns the square
Near the salted slimeheads
A man throws handfuls of his blood
His bright teeth
(You should think in solid ways
Look what happens when you don’t)
Forget that you were tricked
You lie to the wriggling mess with every thought
Near the salted slimeheads
Red yawns widen and splatter
He spreads his belongings on the sand
I heard something through his prehistoric grin
We were all scarred with tribal wounds
But the clustering force left me alone
There was once a village square
Whose bright floor I swept
Forget that you were tricked
You lie to the wriggling mess with every thought