Mysterious Tongue


This is the tongue in which we speak:
Words that gather silently, a rush

Of blood to the toes and knees; a quiet
Flush gathered without touching please

The blush your sweet lips can be,
Gathering my language inwardly, the hush

Made so swiftly sweet and complete: a
Push and thrust to breathe and read

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved
deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

my books https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

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