chewing sound

why is everyone mouth? my brother asks
& it is a holiday where everyone has
a full of sky meat. don't worry about me
i say without any truth to the statement at all.
i have nothing to eat & i have resorted 
to turning each tooth into a tombstone.
underneath are buried goldfish or grandfather.
one in the same for the way they stare
& never speak enough. my brother is standing
on the roof & trying to grow gills. a species
of mixed metaphors. aren't you starving?
they ask & i shake my head. put a glove
in my mouth. the holiday is one about
killing because in the end aren't most holidays?
land turned into ice cream. i tell my brother
the best thing to do when you can't stand
the sound is to fill your ears with 
something brilliant. i show him how i do this
with a spool of indigo thread. he goes to town
using slinkies. the mouths form together
into one big mouth saying contradictory things.
we love you & don't breathe & hold still
& delicious delicious little wing. 
you can get to a point where you don't
trust yourself with noise. instead, move
as feather-like as possible until everyone 
else is so full they turn into piles of shoes.
i don't want to leave him there. i don't want
to pretend like there is not such thing 
as a hunger so deep you could not grow a mouth
that could ever hold it. but i do. i grin.
i kick down doors. i let the wasps' nests 
flourish on the throat of the pine tree outside.
he asks me if it's loud to me too. i am sorry
to say that i lie to him. i say that
if i keep moving it's almost like 
i don't hear the chewing at all.