The words emerge from nowhere.
They’ve been waiting all your life
For you to sit quietly
And let them arrive.
Here we are. We are older
Than you, than you’ll ever be.
We’ve occupied so many
Brains and built so many minds
Before you were in the womb,
Listening to the murmur
Of your mother tongue.
You are not inspired.
You are an ecosystem,
The reservoir that drowned us.
When you’re quiet and recede,
We reappear, the churches
And post offices of speech,
History’s roofless ruins
And watery graves.
Our melancholy fools you.
Because we are words,
We can become anything,
The small fry in your shallows,
The floating green obscuring
Our earlier, headstone selves,
The prehistoric sturgeon
Laying black eggs in drowned lies.
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