Blood Cries

View PDF

Sometimes you speak 
and I hear 
the words between us, 

but below your voice 
a far motion of sound erupts: 
a new language  
swells into storm, 

a watery thunder— 
unspoken anger of blood 
heaving; a sea 

aching for the moon, 
raging  
in its vast bed, 
to tear free 

and rise unshackled 
into the abundance 
of nothingness; 

a language that floats  
like mathematics above 
and within everything, 
still unknown to us. 

Its first words 
drift ashore within me 
tasting metal-raw 
and dangerous.