Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Weight of Words - Anna Garry

She speaks a special type of Braille,
air knots, smoke strokes,
the necessity of touch.

She tells you about wallflowers,
hollyhock, instances of shade,
thrushes' eggs, a blackbird's beak,
the golden inhibited song.

Alone she'll trace pebbles, malachite,
crystal, the pleasure of hard grain,
fractures, shale, steep slopes,
the inevitable slide of scree.

Should you look into her eyes
you see she walks on eggshells,
knows the pain when sound's held back
how breath is clamped by fists,
the feel of sandpaper on skin.

She has the weight of words
cushioned in each palm.
She lets them all float free.

1 comment:

  1. I love your use of words, Anna..."Should you look into her eyes you see she walks on eggshells, knows the pain when sound's held back..." Beautiful!

    ReplyDelete