əliʃə bɛθ

Found Poem 5

I take the thing in my mouth,

because a mouth is what I have.

I rip another hole, I eat it all;

a numbered bear in a motel room.

The change is ongoing

and astonishing.

Sleep occasionally

in a different place.

Say, I have no past.

I am that you can see

in the teller’s face:

what the story feels like.

Yes, I made the opportunity

for it, but—