Words Between

You will say something mundane then a sudden potency will scratch my skin. I mention an ordinary thing and you show me where my words are fine silk or a brief abrasion. An invisible tissue connects a common language into questing passions. I imagine the tympanic bones of our ears as they converse, the contrary vibrations form chess pieces that tango briefly in our eyes. You say an odd thing which I cannot translate. I comment upon something you have no knowledge of. In-between the words campfires burst into flame. Meanwhile the passion keeps pouring the heat of sight into synaptic junctions. What we see is a haunting of words not said, there’s only this deep listening in the clamoring flesh.