They speak in fiery tongues
and burning Braille breath, the

taloned syllables of sky. Sanskrit
scales and trails of scarlet smoke.

We listen with our outstretched
hands, our hearts, our will and whim

and why, and wonder how long be
-fore we understand we’re all broken

pieces of the same slang. We sigh
and sign our own names, fingers

flying, laced with ache and the lava
-lake spill of their echoed hum. Some

day we’ll trace our own scars with
hungry fingers, and know the bump

and bruise of mourning, a calling from
afar. The shattered languages of stars.


Prompted by Poetic Asides





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3 Responses to DragonSong

  1. erbiage says:

    De This is so painful, so beautiful, so Real! Thank you.

    Sent from my iPhone


  2. Shawna says:

    That part about the pregnancy bump is my favorite. So clever.

  3. qbit says:

    The shattered languages of stars.– fantastic!!

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