Alphabet City

I’ve become quite skilled
in unspoken word
biting my own tongue

regrets of omission rather
than ruing the things I’ve said

l’esprit de l’escalier?
my retorts are always timely

mine’s the sound of one voice
a monologue
so I’m never wrong

in my mind there are no lips
so cursing is not as pleasant

I miss furling my lip while hurling air
at that back-throat k

my mind’s in the guttural sounds it makes
down along the curb

my silence is the good fence
that makes good neighbors
so they say

I sing out loud ancient hymns
they resonate inside my head

reverberate in cool chambers
in the crypts below the abbey

you will never know just how I feel
about you my friend

until the very end

know me by my epitaph
it will read
. . .

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

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