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i keep my mouth open when I walk

I feel the years trickle through my teeth
Mixing with old words
The rainsalt lichen on enamel
I plunge in up to my knees to sieve the grit

panning for gold
to sell on our stall

You can sell your trinkets too
We’ll put flowers in the canopy
So people will think we’re in a forest
When they see us

we’re just hiding from the rain we’ll tell them
collecting the storm in buckets to sell to tourists
who can’t understand why we make paper boats