The Man with No Mouth

Michael Bazzett
| poetry

 

I can’t tell you how happy I am to announce
how happy I am. No, really. I can’t tell you—

I have no mouth, only the skin of my chin
curving up into the twin caverns of a mundane
nose with an uninterrupted blankness beneath.

It is a form of erasure, I’d say, if I could say
anything. Your sense of smell must be quite keen,
said the man on the bus as I stared pointedly away.

It’s not for him to say what’s blessing, what’s curse.
But the truth is I can keep a secret like a stone
& I’ve not lost a friend to anything but a hearse.

Michael Bazzett’s work has appeared in Ploughshares, Massachusetts Review, The Sun, and Oxford Poetry. His debut collection, You Must Remember This, (Milkweed Editions, 2014) won the Lindquist & Vennum Prize for Poetry, and his verse translation of the Mayan creation epic, The Popol Vuh, is forthcoming from Milkweed in 2017. You can find him online at michaelbazzett.com.

Next
My Wife’s Glass Vat of Buttons
Previous
The Anecdotalist