"What do you remember from your birth?" he asks
"Words," I say
Because I remember:
Being a face full of ink blinks
And a body of wiggling Calligraphy
My skin pale parchment
Soggy and crumpled
But still scribbling screams
From fragile lungs
And a body of wiggling Calligraphy
My skin pale parchment
Soggy and crumpled
But still scribbling screams
From fragile lungs
I remember
being words...
being words...
Oh this.
ReplyDeleteSo comprehensive in its directness. Words - the core of existence. There are so many layers to this, the literal, then the subjective, the words thrown onto that face, body, skin by others through description, one thing we do not control is the words inflicted on us. Words ever floating and attaching to us. Then the words we attribute to ourself, those scribbling screams we do control and twist and wrestle with and throw at others.
Much to think, as always. How you spoil us this September of greatness. You have me checking frequently!
(*clapping emphatically)
DeleteI knew if no one else would understand, you would. Now get to writing!!!😉