i understand your languages,
Even though i cannot translate the jumble of words you speak.
But your voice is like the air,
Like the stars that are living inside your lungs,
Hoping to be seen before dawn catches them in her net.
i remember how you sounded when you sang,
Clearer than the mourning doves,
The mocking birds,
Pretending to be a godlike creature,
Your hooves and antlers,
Bounding through forests and fields.
In your chest is a nest of bryars and roses,
Cacti covered in wasps,
Stinging the girls who whisper secrets,
Painting your insides on their hearts.
You parted your lips to realease a sound that no human could ever make,
From your hands came emotions,
Ones that caused earthquakes and tsunamis and fire in the trees.
i never could catch them in my empty jars,
Watching them escape from the cracks between my fingers.
And after i ran over your broken ground and flooded cities,
The girls came with their stones,
Their knives held in their mouths,
To take the thing from your ribs that wasn't even there.
You didn't need it anyway, they promised,
Hands covered in you,
Mouthfulls of nothing but your voice.
one thimble issue 17: big day out jacket
4 weeks ago