Words

“Off from

the center”

—Sylvia Plath

Words

How truly queer—

Hacking away at the

Quotidian like I used to

As if words were—

The swords of Excalibur

Or an ax in the woods

Expecting words to—

Ring and echo in my

Expectant ears

For years writing—

Like a greedy whore

Doing it for money

Encountering them—

On the road instead

Speaking to me

Words are dry—

And riderless in

The back of the bus

On the ferry—

Crossing the Sound

A gift outta the blue

Indefatigably alien—

Re-establishing their

Own mirror reality

Doubling back at me—

From a blacktop pool

Of fixed stars