Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Did Dido Dido

They lurk in every name, the puns,
The plays on words. They have to lurk.
Words are herd animals. They stick

Close to each other, trick the eye,
Blend in, mill around nervously,
Stampede when they’re spooked. They fit in,

Not one of them the same, but as
Similar as definitely
Different things can be. A language,

However it tramples the world,
However thunderous, takes up
However little space it can.

This is not that new in nature—
Herds, schools, swarms, honeycombs, penguins
Trying to keep warm in the dark—

Many things turn to tricks like puns,
Ways to keep as close as they can.
Then dysphasia’s fantasias creep

Like gulls and foxes, crocs and wolves,
Darting here and there for a meal,
And the herd turns a bit ragged,

And the harassed meanings look thin.
What was that word that meant a trick?
What happened to the queen? You mean?

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