it is hard to translate emotions
into words and be wholly honest

our humours swirl ambivalently,
like vagabond alphabets which
have not found their words

as if insufficient time has
lapsed after the meteoric
impact of feeling, for the dust
to settle and for the words to cool
from the heat of the present tense

and all we can cough out is
soot: scorched and subjective,

a hurried attempt at translating
a restless disquiet into lexical entities -
ordered, grammatical.