The Letter Killeth, the Letter Giveth Life
They lied so long, so well, to one another,
that words, any words, astounded speech
that drops in stone fists, the soft
stuff that charms from the arrogant and gruff,
bare bewildered sounds, any words, even
the slow, the backing up and lunging
stalled words that fight and stop, inch-worm
on, in, for true feeling, all words lie,
drift, bob on racing surfaces, are
light flecks that betray the movements
of the dark cat's light-muting fur.
Structure
11 lines · 1 stanza