Itchy LinguistShe sorrows by the lisp, waspily, chooses stress as a means to get through this stenciling of unpredictability. Every theory cringes, trembles behind the viewing glass. ![]() Pardoning my cough executes the edict of let's ensue. Let's. A favorable weathering makes her a churchly and flourishing nation state, bustle then bust. Ensue. She harvests the headstones of dead ![]() languages. She flapjacks onto an onionish stack, can't tell papery film from inner layers, epigraphs from their epicenters. Borrows the auditorium's echo, won't give it back. More chandelier than ![]() me, whistling a nervous gleam. I scrawl her words, siphon their hiving syntax. Outside, the thrushes no longer chirrup, bandaged to branches or tangled in stonewalling, struck by their collective ![]() coverage of grubs. She smacks the back of my head with twiggy logic. It scratches thick, a foreign tongue borrowed and fumbling. Thus a feather ruffled is an announcement, a sound, an erstwhile accent. |
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