We grabbed sounds from the air,
stuck them together, draped
language around actions,
tethering ourselves to history
inscribed in vellum, barked
and trumpeted for all to hear.
All this tonnage… it seems like magic.
We learned to tell convoluted
tales, twisting facts like
movements in a bellydance,
sapient and seductive.
What is that mist out there?
We carved the world like onion slices
to be devoured one-by-one,
ignoring the other passengers’
Hold my hand.
Thumbing through the final pages, I skimmed
the moribund bibliography of My Heart:
Bark, Vellum K. Tether the Bellydancing. New Drape City: Moribund Hand, 2003.
Trumpet, J.J. “Tonnage.” Devouring Convoluted Onions. Mistburg: Sapient & Sons, 1993.
Fasten your seatbelt.
The plane will be landing soon.
This is for Read Write Poem’s wordle prompt (#79). The idea is to write a poem using a given set of words. All of those words comprise the bibliography portion of this poem.