Losing My Words

Renting this space, a greedy silence hangs a picture’s worth of words

Everyone could see that

Thousands thousands

swallowed whole by memory’s avarice.

Wishing wells charge a nickel for spitting change at our feet.

Copper coins disguising restless dreams for your thoughtlessness.

Ascending into the ravenous night

It’s darker still craving the whispering of sleep

Chattering then erased by the hands of desert heat

and devouring each frame by the sun’s first light.

Expensive gifts in extending hands

the size of a Harem’s ego. I can hear someone in the receiver

who’s listening in and plagiarizing quotes.

Hiding far away in a bustling bazaar

Where running and tripping into stalls and onto vendors

indicate a thief tried and given a sentence.

Reading between the lines

I only want what’s mine.

Leaping over puddles of words, dreaming I’m

a pink dancer whirling above

A hundred piece band playing

paragraphs behind that bow tied man, accenting notes and striking up chords.

In a pit they pluck, strike, beat, bow, blow, then

Towards the audience men stand and bend like commas

At the waist, ladies genuflect.

Holding onto their middle class accents audience exclaiming brilliance – encore.

Long and short vowels cover their heads like hats.

Musical words left behind all the birds

As they fly over a zoo of prepositions.

Phrases dangled from around the neck

Of a depressed lexicographer.

His tears streaking down his white powdered

Face. Why so sad wordsmith? He looked up

And sighed. Oh my dear what’s happened to my canon?

To our language? It’s all but died – tears streaming into a run-on life’s sentence.

Sitting atop the bridge of his nose helping him ny gathering any

Remaining portmanteaus.

Trying to rescue each noun and verb from

The grated gateway to the sewers below, too late to save them

From washing away- forgetting all the prepositions.

I haven’t a clue which path to take, from where, in or on whom, towards what end?

Explaining forever – masked, patiently you listened

superiorly, knowingly. Yet if I knew the definitions of ”milk”

And ”salt” is that all I’d add to the conversation?

Then three letters, frozen into a word, not steaming out of the kettle nor washing me clean of any guilt.

Still and quietly hanging inside the blackest cave I can recall stalagmites and stalactites and which hang and which protrude.

If I misunderstood you correctly, earthly teeth can be very dangerous,

Yet losing my directives for heavens sake, my pronouns – I got it all wrong.

For she, he, them

Or we and us, yet neither him nor her,

Could spend days waiting for anyone

not to remember.

Image from cafe press – please support the artist here https://www.cafepress.com/+funny_cancer_chemo_brain_blue_mini_button,1603297489

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