The Pit of Carkoon

In this desert dwells a sarlacc, a ziggurat-shaped carnivore

broken stones surround its sandy lamprey lips

teeth like sapling-sized porcupine quills ring its vast maw

from the sphincter at the bottom of the pit

twin tongues lash out like bullwhips

Strewn around the sand

you’ll find philosophers’ hats, bottles, a sandal

all stones may be eaten

all lichens will grow both ways: forward and back in time

here under the sand green ferns grow

You should know

here to say the word nowhere brings comfort

for miles around the ravenous, stationary sarlacc

ostriches peer up like prairie dogs from their burrows

egg skulls bob atop their swaying sand-buried spines

Under the sand in the monster’s cathedral stomach

thin feral babies shelter in ulcers repurposed as caves

they live on olive pits, distilled piss, severed toes

they object to the outside world on moral grounds

All nights become variations on a salt pan desert

occupied only by monsters and the dead

all deserts version the night, but under the sand

in the moist inhabited caves sweet ferns grow

you should know