DIGGING UP WORDS

I have a terrible need to find words,

to hunt them out from underground

with the help of a good cadaver dog,

to root them up from their caverns

and tombs and stack them —

femur, backbone, ribcage, skull —

into the body of this passing day.

 

Tomorrow I could build another form;

Tuesday another, and on and on.

One day, I would build a thing that speaks:

I want nothing from you, nothing more…

Bodies enough for the rest of my life,

all hung on wires through the knobby spine

like tattered coats.  All swinging

in a gentle breeze, all turning

then to watch me walk away. 

J. Kyle Kimberlin