WHEN WORDS FALL SHORT

For once, finding words

is hard. An image is before

me, and feelings are a raging

sea inside me; no god could

walk on the surface of what

rises and falls and rises

in great waves inside me.

I could go through the words

that I have used often during

these summer months,

but they fall short, today;

perhaps tomorrow they have

some of their old potency.

And perhaps I could go above

or below of those, for words

delicate or shameless.

But one feels as wrong

as the other.  For now, I have

hit the limits of my language,

except this: I will be taking

them off in my imagination -

it works when words fail -

with hands that are trembling,

with hands that are firm,

and perhaps using my teeth...

03.08.2024