The Mouth of Words

It opens and it closes,
sometimes without a word to you.
As if it changes its mind
at the very last moment.

And you, already intrigued,
want to hear

and to explain to it that this
is not good manners.

At other times it manages to whisper
some fleeting thought.

To stop you in your deaf,
noisy day. To make you listen.

Sometimes it takes your breath away
with what it says. You don’t want it to stop.

You can see how at its corners
blood trickles, chafed and rubbed raw

from speaking, retelling,
repeating and falling silent.

Listen to its whisper
long enough

and you begin to want
to kiss it like a lover.