Graffiti
for Stephen Gardner
Even in the womb you traces verses
on the walls that held you prisoner
back from the air that would give you voice.
Between life and living, you're the true
essence of "never before." Feelings captured,
moist finger to soft flesh:
the simplest poem of all:
pitches and tones clinging to syllables,
strung into sentences true, and hung on air.
The sounds go muffled, distorted
through layers of skin
and fluids swirling, go into ears
as your hands flex and squeeze
meaning for all it is.
The rocks and kicks shape rhythm,
show the meanings of uncomfortable.
That is something to write about.