Wednesday 8 December 2021

 Magic Words

They say you have a magic tongue

that can weave the words 


from your mouth into tapestries 

laced with gold thread.

Curl the words into scented ringlets

of flowers

formed by petals shining like

stars even in the sunlight.

I want to catch them and hold on to them

without any rearranging.

To soak myself in their perfection,


so I can keep them with me

when the magic turns dark


and the golden threads hard,

when you turn them to sharp steel.

They’re still your words with a kind of magic

twisted together by your tongue 

but they have become


explosions of your anger and despair


but no longer falling


I’m going to catch them and hold them now

so that I can rearrange them


to what they were.

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