Non Containers

The crack in the bowl widens
And the grin pokes through.
Normally, at ten.
Today, I go to bed at the crack
Of Paradise, the grin of Heaven,
The light of the world
Breaking its hold.

The bowl is white, the wild
Blackberries indigo,
The mouth open,
The Source of fruit laughing.
The eater of fruit playing.
The concept of hunger
Pretending its lines
Self reflexively.

We need nothing.
We are all playing
At being fruit and being mouth.
We feel desperate for approval
From our fathers. Until we go
Through the crack to the rest
Of ourselves.

We are the light
That shows