MOUTHS by Rebecca Lennon

MOUTHS


A pile of fur coats,

you put one on,

a second skin,

the coat now hangs on the door.


A pile of fur coats,

you put one on,

a second skin,

the coat hangs on the door

of a house derelicted.


A pile of fur coats,

you put one on,

a second skin,

the coat hangs over the front door.


A pile of fur coats,

you put one on,

a second skin,

the coats hangs on the door

of a house derelicted.


A house derelicted,

a house derelicted,

a house derelicted,

derelicted.


A house derelicted,

a house derelicted,

a house derelicted,

derelicted.


Skin on skin, the coat stops the cold caused by the brick through the window,



skin on skin.


Skin on skin, the coat stops the cold caused by the brick through the window

of a house derelicted.


Skin on skin, a house derelicted, skin now hangs over the door,



skin on skin.


Skin on skin on skin, a fur coat hangs over the door of a house derelicted.


A hole is a gap where things leak out, or leak in, the site of mould or damp, the site of infection, interference, drainage, convenient disposal and a passageway, something necessary to communicate. A hole as a pore or a mouth is not like a scratched hole, an infected hole or a hole made by negligence or design or designed negligence, a pore or a mouth is a hole to breathe not a hole to rot.


There are lots of mouths in this place. Joined tongues, spilling wet breath, and even in soft words, they’re still too hard, the mouths in this place.


Out of sync and all echo, the mouths in this place, all echo, all echo, the mouths in this place, all echo, the mouths in this place,


all echo.


Unable to add anything to this dissonant chorus, I stop. The mouths in this place, the mouths without bodies, the words without hosts, the mouths in this place,



I stop.


Silent but not really silent, just a noise turned inwards, contained until it’s not again,

one on one, mouths a puckered zero, and then everything,


too much,


So this is the too much. The taps been left on, and it's spitting out the sides and leaking onto the floor. All orefaces have to be closed, every one of them.


There’s fly tipped rubbish everywhere; the waste disposal workers are throwing it in the streets in protest. It's blowing into your house making everything smell of uncooked meat wrappers.


A plant is cut and leaks white liquid. A cactus spills out of itself, leaving only skin. Full fat cow's milk fills us up, moving around via our collective insides.


There’s fly tipped rubbish everywhere, the waste disposal workers are throwing it in the streets in protest. The dis acts on the order becoming intrusive. The dis is a sine wave, a repeated curve of central conflict, a rhythm of spillage and control, inflate and deflate, a repeated curve of central conflict,


a repeated curve of central conflict,

a repeated curve of central conflict,

a repeated curve of central conflict,

a repeated curve of central conflict.

Thanet Tape Centre. New and Old Musics