Different Tongues

Different Tongues

In silence
I feel like your hands have swallowed me
between each touch I dissolve into sweet acids
fading into the splash of the morning
fading like the pencil-line dividing us

But in sound
each tongue gropes beneath the shadow of language
Intrepid vagrants
traversing a haze of syllables
that rises over lips and teeth

Hand over hand and word over word we followed
each sound growing borders, skin and hand-bones
Each word emerging from mist-hung spheres.

Until finally our mouths open and we fall inside
heads pressed against a single, clumsily stitched tongue
teutonic hands drawing continents together.