Words fall from her mouth like leaves
sentences pushed off the cliff
shatter into sound on the hard
surface at the bottom
I go into this quarry picking stray phrases
piecing them back together nouns,
verbs, past tenses and future projections
– once used for plea and accusation –
form new thoughts at the base of language
the poetry of rhythm
sloped delicately against
the white receptive
surface of song
I switch off