Words, that is. If you list details
Like gold pocket watch or dead mouse,
Black hummingbird tongue or damp hair,
The point is to entrap someone,
To get the reader’s brain to fall
Into memory’s honeypot,
Amber and sticky, and stay there
While their memories engulf them,
Their own memories your detail
Words have conjured, and they murmur,
Wonderful, it’s as if I’m there.
And while they’re swimming in themselves,
Whatever bodegas or barns
Suggest to them, dark as syrup
In them, you pump them full of air,
The real purpose of your detail
Words, to beguile, when all the while
You have some hollow perspective,
Some void you wish to slip in there,
Aneurysm in the making,
A bubble released in the mind,
Transient ischemic idea.
Immobilize those honey bears.
Convince them there are true stories,
Or that your story speaks a truth
That your detail words can vouch for,
That your stories can prove you care.
Stories are shameless, but they’ll blush
And say they’re ashamed to be true,
Pretending they’re such bad liars,
With their amber, transfixing stares.
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