There is a conversation here
I am not aware of, a group of words clustering,
looking for a new home
There is a meaning hidden, like a child
playing a game, tucked inside a line,
a Derrida-like violence to language
What I have said is what I have said
but then that word passes through the mind
and like a prism, bends the light
And what we are left with
is the best we can do to love each other
with syllables and syntax.
