Inlaid Hearts

My words probe in the base of my skull

struggling to juggle like balls in the air

images on trampolines jumping into my head

living words bathing naked at river’s edge.

I gather my words in baskets of silence

scratching the surface of slick solitude

slipping into minds to draw out gems

scrambling words to make them flow

I brush words from shoulder length strands

curl the ideas around my searching fingers

grind my teeth, chomping on throbbing pain

following the miles of my etched phrases.

Words blush my skies in sublime murmurs

inlaid hearts and closed eye dances

moon crooning the corpse of raw words

I dread the day when words don’t matter.