Words
Spurt out like pebbles from a child’s shaking hand
Crackling against the riverbed
The echo of them
Heels on marble
Drowning out all thoughts
Drops of perspiration pool at my temples
Tell me
What is the sound of connection?
Not this tick tick pattern
Of an unmoving tongue
Bound by
The loudness
The waiting ears of others
The vibrating weight of expectation
Respect
Comes only to those whose speech
Isn’t anchored by the thrombing
Pulse of vocalization.
Basking in Books 