Four Poems – Sam Rush

At our moon colony

language will once again be 
told to shut up and lick the art forms.
art forms will grow on sink dishes.
dishes will grow inside sinks.
sinks will reproduce sexually 
and my deaf will live next 
door to the clanging. hearing will do 
dishes in the quiet (carefully). blood will spill 
only onto broken plates. we will call out 
blood by the name broken
plates long enough that blood will come
to look like broken plates.