constellations

They slide down my throat like goldfish.
To swim in a pond of bright green bile
Until they swell up fat and toxic.

They mutate and divide like cancer cells.
And grow without a sound up through
My nose like branches of a sycamore tree.

Strange birds land on their twisted boughs
And pluck them one by one by one
Like eyebrows to line their silly nests.

Until the wind snatches them back and runs
On strong legs far as the east
Is from the west and beyond the blue moon.

While they scatter like the mustard seed
Bruising my faith and resting place
Until I am tempted to swallow again.