Santito might be in your room right now. Right over there, behind that mote of dust, next to the mouse hole. Don’t worry, he smells very nice. Remember when you couldn’t find your keys the other day? Santito needed to borrow them for an exhibit he was curating on “Things With Teeth.” Born in an abandoned lighthouse in a landlocked town in the mountains, Santito’s mother was La Gigantona and his father was a bat swooping out of a tree. Santito cannot wait to make eye contact with you.
I want to put your whole face in my mouth
and tongue you my favorite songs.
I think you’ll taste better than I do
as you kiss my uvula good morning.
Your eyeball and my front teeth will get
along and later married.
They will have kids and my mouth
will become two kinds of a roof.
I’d like to yell my own name into
your whole self until the echoes
ripple your skin and your belly button bursts
open like a damn and floods the room with me.
Then you can press your nose
against the inside of my check
and leave an imprint
so from the outside
it looks like I have two noses.
People will call me “two-nose”
but I wont be able to respond
harshly or at all because my mouth
will be full with your face.
People will call you “mouth-face”
but you wont be able to hear them
because I will stretch out my cheeks
to cover your ears too.
This is how we make each other stronger.
It will be more like waltzing
than it sounds. When we go to sleep
I want to be so too close to you
that your breath makes me sneeze.
And I keep waking up.
And every time you tell me
it’s so okay.