26 Letters

When Prose pauses, a Poem births

26 letters

Memorized on formative tiny tables

A few letters come together

Shared pencils, shared erasers, shared sentences

Under swing sets

Once literal in black and white crayons

Words with more letters bestow

Now with gradients of grey

But the womb occupies the blankie

Words swim away in fear

They want to be brave

But they lose their map

Hollow words flow smooth in crates

Imprisoned truth

Frightened outcomes patrol the roads

Rush to quiet life

There is no sky, there is no light

Only a recluse fight

Words live in their habits

Sputter in their corners

Disintegrate in their terror

As the guide cackles

Truth is forced into silent retreats

Paid in taxes

They tremor in embankments

In between rocks

Under a slug

Through the clouds, they dream a dance

Only to be reminded of the haunt

Torture cloaks the blue sky

Held in composure

Disguised as calm

But the words are ponderous

And the storage is mountainous

They have no flow

No breath

Only quiet silo

Luxurious oxygen

Meant for the free

Sentiments board in turbulence

Can we lighten the cargo?

Not in the fog

Hope left the playground

Past, present, future

Melds

26 letters

Larva words slosh in a torn suitcase

Sentences flee

To drink the air

Lit by the daylight sky

Comforted in the night

To describe the fog in abstract

To crystallize the real

To say the unspeakable

To land the pain

Truth bleeds

Armor and chains leave the depths of the feet

Listener does not run away

But is here to stay?

I was the prison guard?

Time to resign.

Here are my words.

Photo by Fabio Santaniello Bruun on Unsplash