© 2023 by MCLA Spires. 

Things Unspoken

March 5, 2018

Sometimes ants crawl out of my mouth

Carrying the things that are dear to me

And I am left unable to speak

 

Sometimes I walk into the yard

Hearing the chimes chime and dance

To an awaking sun

 

Sometimes I lie naked on my back

Letting my lover write verses on my stomach

Love poems made of anise and honey

 

Sometimes I dream in hazy blue

Of raspberry fields and youth lagoons

And there is a pen when I wake

 

At my bed side, waiting to be pressed

To create and recreate as it deems necessary

Sometimes the pen sings

 

And there are those who do not understand its meaning

Sometimes it does not enunciate

And only whispers quietly to those who are near

 

Like the ants who crawl out of my mouth

Carrying the things that are dear to me

Sometimes I cannot speak, my voice a fading memory

 

But the pen is always there when I wake

Waiting to be pressed

To create or recreate as I deem necessary

 

To perform an opera of things unspoken

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