March 6, 2012

the language between us
 
Not in the way of verbs. Not like the exchange at the post office, the weighing in,
the request for faster service. Not like the bartender taking an order, or the saleswoman
proffering a selection of black dresses. Not like a hand rising in a classroom, the answer
tipping out of the mouth. Not like directions from the gas station attendant or
telling the time to a stranger or the pleasantries of the checkout clerk. Not like previews
in a dark movie theater, the assault of a soundtrack. Not like the stoic delivery of news
anchors or the urgings of the gym instructor or the televangelist booming from the stage.
Instead, the language between us threading through the cracks, in air and breath and page
and all the nuance of a simple, single glance. Our tongue is split in half, our body into thirds,
love pulsing in the center of it all, a beautiful failure of words.