We Used to Talk

Ponder with me, if you will, 

Those distant cousins who crafted language. 

To emerge, erect and erect from

The shadows, the lack, the before, 

Into the mistakes of Eve. Imagine

The poetry rolling through 

Hills of tongues, fjords of teeth, 

Just to taste it and birth bird song. 

Imagine how the moon conspired

To create romance and lust,

The Sun spawning wonder and the guteral sound of art, 

Doubt oozing out of the swollen snakebite

And the venomous glee in being

The smith of words just to hurt. 

Ponder the creation of song and wails, 

The utterance of a messiah and the horns of Jericho, 

The white horse and death rattle. 

Now, Speak. 

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