The words we wisely swallowed
but stuck to our throats like sap
their letters black—
I’d extract them with a thick plastic syringe
the slow pull
the sudden suction of it
shocking and sublime.
It was the way it reached inside our fingers
we’d say.

I’d gather them up in a glass bowl
still warm
We’d spread them out
pour them out in a parking lot
our limbs light
our minds dry as a book
and we’d sing again.