by M. Lavender


I sense the language I exhale,

I store it on my little shelf.

And as I  try to rid myself

Of rolling “r”s, I force to fall

In love with tribes of distant calls.

Now dip yourself in sizzling clay –

Adjust the carcass. Trust me, play

This borrowed game, though keep in mind

That rules are never quite right

For your migrating birds, for whales

Where sand caresses skin.  The rails

Cut across my home, red pens cross out

The chords you hear, learn to read

The melodies. I know you meet

The stranger’s eyes, but as they speak

There is no wall. Their song is yours-

You know the tune. But, still, I pause

To leave the platform – trains depart

To ups and downs. Life is art,

The audience of my show would choke

On popcorn if I stayed. Evoke

Your feelings, spill your soul, surprise

The reader of your book and rise

To fall. Now get it wrong. Don’t hide

Your real you, the native side.

Of course I mean the frecklish tone,

Leave your concealer pitch alone.

My chosen path varies a bit –

I chose to play. Dramatic beat.

I’ll gather scattered foam from tides,

Leave in a jug mixed with my pride.

More than attempts to leave the shore

Are scribbled over daydreams. Far

Now. Times will change. And sure somehow

We’ll slowly figure puzzles out.

We’ll gently calm the muzzles down.

Inhale. Exhale your language now.

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