The Tongue
E
Eric Cockrell
0
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I am the tongue,
The wick, and the shoe.
The fallen nest, the unnamed star.
Conceived from dust,
And forged from steel.
I carry the name
Of bodies without faces.
I bury the bone,
And tend the fire.
I wash, i bandage,
I thrust, i stink.
No more than stone,
No less than wind.
I am your heart,
Calling your soul!
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