Broken Tongues and Laryngitis
Shouldering songs from the birth to the rhyme
of emotion, spring silver and burgundy 'spires
Slipping your words in a tragedy roll
tumbling and tumbling sweet in my mouth
Parching the lips from the birth to the hip
of elation, crooned gypsy and marble desire
Swathing your soul in impertinent shadows
release, just release while I sing in the fire
We are the makers of melody masks
We sing, our words holding hands
We won't touch ground 'till the flooding ensues
an immense retribution entrance
Cradling wounds from the birth to the line
of devotion, peppered and whispered in dreams
Basking in sun, mirror stolen and young
burning and burning the cold from the seams
Lending the moon from the birth to the ground
repetition, invited and sailing the air
We will be crooning our songs short of smiles
despite broken tongues and acute laryngitis.
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
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