Tinitus

these words are like tin pennies,

they make no sense and they clatter about on the ground,

there is no sound to be heard,

when they fall,

when they ping,

when they bound about,

haplessly finding their version of gravity,

but they go so far,

here and there and I’m certain that they’ll be remembered,

if only for a little while,

cruel little words,

wanting not for direction; splendidly recounting themselves in my memory,

but they do draw themselves from my heart and they do a bit of breaking there,

you would tell me not to say them,

I’ll tell you that they’ve become necessary evils,

because you wouldn’t listen to what these eyes spoke out loud,

like an anvil you fell on me,

a purloined vestige bought from that spoofed coyote,

even he couldn’t bring you across that expanse between us,

and cross this border,

there is no common ground which can take up the waters drowning me here,

and when they subside, like forty days of flooding, their dregs will coddle the shores of this new reality,

few words with much to say, gleanings from my soul,

you may say hello, but I say goodbye.

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