Respiration

I sense the language I exhale,
I store it on my little shelf.
And as I  try to rid myself
Of rolling “r”s, I force to fall

In love with tribes of distant calls.
Now dip yourself in sizzling clay -
Adjust the carcass. Trust me, play
This borrowed game, though keep in mind

That rules are never quite right
For your migrating birds, for whales
Where sand caresses skin.  The rails
Cut across my home, red pens cross out

The chords you hear, learn to read
The melodies. I know you meet
The stranger’s eyes, but as they speak
There is no wall. Their song is yours-

You know the tune. But, still, I pause
To leave the platform - trains depart
To ups and downs. Life is art,
The audience of my show would choke

On popcorn if I stayed. Evoke
Your feelings, spill your soul, surprise
The reader of your book and rise
To fall. Now get it wrong. Don’t hide

Your real you, the native side.
Of course I mean the frecklish tone,
Leave your concealer pitch alone.
My chosen path varies a bit -

I chose to play. Dramatic beat.
I’ll gather scattered foam from tides,
Leave in a jug mixed with my pride.
More than attempts to leave the shore

Are scribbled over daydreams. Far
Now. Times will change. And sure somehow
We’ll slowly figure puzzles out.
We’ll gently calm the muzzles down.

Inhale. Exhale your language now.