A Listening Ear Boxed for Presentation

No magic no, a no flaming
and no at my fingertips sliding, no don’t
call then fly so quickly through here NO
and no, in delicate green.

No in threads of glass at the corner of her mouth,
oh no, oiled tears again, and no
to gold pounded thin, spread covering their crowns
not here again no.

No mountain of water rolling open no
gray fuzz, no mirrors no,
I’ll say no to dreams of a newborn with teeth
and the water’s shadow across my face, no.

No no
no. It’s boxed and bow-wrapped, no said somewhere -
which tongue made it, no, she’s there,
at seven tables feeding me.