(Source: lowpresssure, via baikuken)
Sculpture by Danish artist Susanne Ussing
Growth Spurt
Hold your tongue, they said.
Unable to grasp how such a
delicate hand as my own could
hold such a large and dextrous muscle,
I laughed.
First discovery:
Laughter is mighty exercise
for the tongue.
Have a care, they said.
But I could not nibble at care—at the metallic whiff
of the bit approaching, my tongue bucked
words, flinging them upright and uncleft
into the wild.
Second discovery:
Language multiplies the reach
of the tongue.
Quit jawboning, they said.
But, by now, my head—enlarged by the excavations
of my tongue—was naught but a bony bloom;
the world, whispering back,
unquittable.
Third discovery:
I was not alone
but one of many tongues.
Hush now, they said. Hear our prayers.
Their too-small devotions brushed my skin,
worms turning dirt. I shot to the sky,
a hot-house flower, all of me muscled as
my tongue.
Together, we made the
Fourth discovery:
I knelt; they held
my heart, thrumming.
---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
I tried not to look at what my poetry sisters wrote for the same image until I was done with mine, but OH! Wow. Go look now:
Liz
Kelly
Tanita
Tricia (Happy 9th blog anniversary!)
Laura
Andi
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Katya at Write. Sketch. Repeat.
