Without our tongues

We thought we were thirsty, trudging through deserts

holding rough hands across the ranges

we thought we had become the silent ones, lost our words

we did what we could without them

nestled into ourselves, mourning their curlicues

the tunefulness of the vowels, making the lullabies

we now were without.


Without our tongues we became slow and so thirsty

thought we were done with all that

slipping beyond thought

then a word came whispering down like 

a wet shock and you took it and made twenty more

just like it and dripped them into a castle and we

admired it and shook ourselves and felt a little

less lethargic and right where the window should go i

remembered another word and put it there and then i

thought of two more that made a roof


and suddenly we were dancing in the soaking desert

reciting made-up poetry ancient and cutting-edge, and our sleeves

and pants legs which had been too long and dragging were suddenly

just the right size and we stood up straight and tall, shook

ourselves and the little wet lifewater droplets refracted to shining

snowflakes of history, declaiming themselves from the sand dunes

and it felt like we had always been singing at the top of our arms and legs

always been pogo dancing for sheer mouthfuls of language, new

every minute, and we always will. until we forget

again. and maybe we have to forget again


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