Young Words

Elan Mudrow


There is a temporal space

A frozen lake, where words

From heated thoughts spill,

Into symbols upon ice

Slip, fall, even from sure palms


The stilled linear water

Layered out into oval

Fed by streams and sources

Have been slowed

By brave swimmers


Their heads bob

With white swimming caps

Protecting them from

Elements that cut and draw

Fissures into their hearts


There is always a fear

Of falling underneath

The crackling, heard by all

No one says a word, for

Words are to be written


The cold, cold mirror

With fractures and weak spots

calls me by my only name

Reaches silenced ears, mine

Threatens by incessant scrawling


Tells me of so much more

Of water, a liquid realm

Yet, I cannot see how it runs

It is really two worlds

To know is to drown, twice


I watch words tumble

Through a…

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