Jacob Plasky Poet Free verse

[her Foreign Language]

her foreign language
rubbed my chest to 
empty my lungs of recent
smog. glazed eyes begging her
to close them.    to help.
     
         each word danced 
its rhythm, silhouetting
mockingbirds pace their
movement into my
ears. vulnerable lids try not
to shut.    makes it easier.

“And if that mockingbird   
don’t sing  ”     ()

               she promised a lot. promised to
show me what it feels
like to smile. that lobe to 
lobe smile.   and she worked to 
keep it.

                     she worked a lot. lived by
paper week to week. but
we didn’t notice when
she cuddled next to the cold imprint
where he, where we, where I
used to sleep. we didn’t notice her
tears either. we were already
taken away by her song.

    she cries a lot now. sixty minutes,
half-a-state from embrace. her song, 
still as mystical as years back, when my feet 
reached three squares down. mystified.

          still, through distant words I 
 need her song to put me to 
sleep. to fill my lungs with life. and
grace me with smiles only deserved
for a son.
     for her little man.
    for her only man.


“ Hush little baby don’t 
say a word       ”    ()








()->  traditional verse

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