When distraction carries meaning
like a diamondback’s rattle,
it tautens circadian rhythms
and hurls the tender
toward their own metaphorical
what the hell.
Sharp and venomous bone teeth
taunt your life with plucky listeners.
Where do words go, when nobody says them?
Brenda Warren 2014
Written for Elizabeth’s Day 7 prompt.
What do words do? They lurk in dictionaries for hungry poets to rescue them. Nice poem Brenda..
Absolutely love this one Brenda, read it several times. And that final question: words don’t die, they stick around, even grow new meanings. Perhaps that is why we have this love affair with them. Knowing we ourselves must pass in time, but hope that something of us remains in their ever evolving energy?