the mouths of their wounds
whispered persistently enough
or screamed loudly enough
and finally opened wide enough
to swallow them
to swallow us
ten, twenty, fifty
a river of us
without choking

the mouths of their wounds
drank blood and death
drank our screams
and the vibrations
of our souls
and thirsted still
gaping in confusion
unhealed and unloved

Brian Rihlmann was born in New Jersey and currently resides in Reno, Nevada. He writes free verse poetry, and has been published in The Blue Nib, The American Journal of Poetry, Cajun Mutt Press, The Rye Whiskey Review, and others. Read other articles by Brian.