words’ way

Perhaps, there is, maybe,
a biological malfunction in me,

instead of a mouth singing
to the tune of bell-voiced hymns

the language of my soul speaks
not with dust-tongued shrieks

but with the dancing lettered-runes
under a smiling owl-light moon,

tiptoeing from my scarlet muscle-cave
flowing, twirling with each brainwave

until they reach the tip of my waiting fingers
where they will be freed, and on earth, they will linger,

across the ringed-sea, they will float,
until I am onboard my only heaven-bound boat.

—

04.17.2019
©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by MItodru Ghosh on Unsplash

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Inspired by dVerse Poetics: love the words