Do I have to tell a story?
I always thought that words could just be stand-ins,
they could be taste and feelings and hands on your body,
they could be a wet finger in your ear or
a slap across the jaw.
I always thought that they would just be there,
stagnant and-
****, read them if you want to but otherwise they’ll sit,
they don’t poke unless provoked.
Do I have to have morals?
I don’t mean the author I mean the worlds: do they have to be active? A verb: what you do.
But words are born from a sting on the arm,
a shot of rushing brightness that can’t be captured.
They’re eggs: they’re capsules: they’re formulations.
I don’t want to write a word that would be
seen on the hem of soldiers,
I just want to pull them from my skin like clay
and let them dry