Words at my feet
float-
on rain-soaked sidewalks,
dredged up from the mud.
Weigh heavily,
my disillusioned poet.
Still-
my breath catches
as words swirl in the tidal pool,
shift and sway.
I gather them gently,
softly in my palm.
Close my hands-
feel the weight of language,
it's connection to history,
to the universe,
sky and moon.
The sun descends,
stars blink open their eyes,
earth rotates it's wobbly axis.
All this-
from a handful of words
once at my feet,
now embedded in my skin,
flow through my mind,
telling me a thousand stories
all at once.
