2019-07-09
by
Eleanor Goldfield
Talk to me -
with words wrought from wrinkles in the mind -
time, folding like napkins, set -
a place – elastic like space -
turning tables – mongst the stars
dreams – etched in soulscapes -
words,
that only we understand -
the kind you don't speak -
secret histories soaking like sweat -
on a clean white sheet -
unwashed -
the work of telling is heavy – heady -
we dig – we breathe – we repeat
what a
depth to dive -
alive
turning, this space – these ideas -
nothing new but you -
spill fresh -
exhaling into the world that's left -
the layers of dared and driven cares -
poets counting wingbeats -
of ravens singing hearbeats -
light splashed round grass blades -
and night sliced through day again -
slivers of eternity -
hanging on a synapse -
in a steady breeze -
talk to me -
in the language of timeless tongues -
dig to the roots of our precious young bones -
to the ancient and brave -
the recipes saved -
how to make life from the grave -
how to fly free – from the buried heaps
how to remember -
re – member -
a cycle of embers, the members light pyres -
from ashes our fires – we – re
member
nothing new -
but we spill fresh to the dew -
our sweat, a salt in primordial stew -
recipes – etched in your soul, carved in your bones -
can you read them -
can you talk to me -
in all the ways these words – can never do....