I cannot seem to translate the wordless words in my heart;

the young foals spill from their mother and walk in seconds;

there is merely an absence where my words should be,

the sliverous trace of a scent with no possible origin, non-recallable,

a fading shadow on the wall that tires of waiting for them,

eyelids closing.

You stand there, unaware, and we share no language;

only motion and gesture and jest and contest

the silence; heavy silence, that sits atop my voice box

in victorious thievery.

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