by Atlas Booth
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Flew my mouth south for the winter
Now the tropics are my home
Tongue swirling through the forest
Bringing on the rain foretold
.
Circling a lush oasis
‘Til it opens up its doors
Deeper and deeper I go
Brushing every single wall
.
Suction cup that sweet spot
While you hum the whole way through
Map out each wall vibration
Like fingers tend to do
.
If you trigger an earthquake
They’ll name the day for you
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Atlas Booth is a writer who lives in Cape Town, South Africa. He enjoys all kinds of different tea’s and cold brew coffee. For more information on his work, follow him on twitter: atlasbooth or visit his website: https://atlaslbooth.wixsite.com/main
Beyond the Underground 