Flossing a Crocodile's Mouth

Alexander Devon
  bird flossing a crocodile’s mouth          mango egg belly    beak cut tip cut tip cut tip,
living is like living in the hinge    is like crawling through the belly of a snake    look inside
    it’s a Moon’s dustbowl across the mile to the uvula,
and I’m a moth-bot swimming at moderato – whip-whhiirr – and trailing a spider’s vine of copper
cable like a climber          I see a city possessed    and a bronze fence.

I’m pacing like the God of the Underworld in a black tracksuit          terraced houses drip water
    and there’s stained glass/stained glass/stained glass    at night,
a front room is a stove cooking the heart of a star. enthralled, streetlights curl like intrigued ferns,
then they gnash, mouth full of soapy salt-and-pepper static    then the clock tower opens its video
eye          and the croc’s jaw shuts above.

here and there    unmanned working factory floor          outside it’s    howl
a panther with a coat of plasma and a belly full of watercolours    a howl which breaks stone    makes
the gold skin of the statues scaly. a manky wad of teeth    /    inside it’s
sit home    we little birds    soon only    programmers    or poets.

Alexander Devon is a seventeen-year-old poet from the United Kingdom. He is currently studying physics, maths, and biology. His poetry reflects the terrifying cross-pollination that occurs when his interests in classic science fiction (anything from before pretentious cyberpunk became popular), sword-and-sorcery fantasy, and politics collide. Alex is a total anorak who’s read every edition of Top Gear Magazine for the last nine years. Naturally, he plans to study automotive engineering at university. His plan for a perfect life is to spend his days designing racing cars, and his nights either writing poetry or seducing women. Riverbabble is the first magazine his poetry has been published in.

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