just a line in a song.

By Lux

he asked me what languages I speak
the Bolivian rift of his tongue
dividing and divining my secrets

I told him:

I speak demolition
I speak wild-fire and quick-wind
I speak empires burned; only to be built again on ashes.

What I didn't tell him:

a mortar-and-pestle tongue
match sticks for finger tips
fluent in fail-safes and 
emergency exit rows

i pronounce packed bags like a pro

 

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2021 Lux
Published on Friday, November 19, 2021.     Filed under: "Depressed" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

Lessons in "fucking around" and "finding out."
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