"The Language You Are Hearing"

 In honor of National Poetry Month, here is my poem "The Language You Are Hearing":

The Language You Are Hearing

The language you are hearing
is not spoken with the mouth
although it sounds round
like “O”
or the heralding of trumpets,
but rather with a chamber of
gilded ventricles,
a chamber at the center
of the universe.
I can almost remember
the language,
how to speak it,
what it means.
I almost remember it from
the chambers,
from behind walls.
It’s returning to me like
blood to the heart
and the sounds come
through the stone,
through my bones
as if it were inside me.
I want someone to come
and tear me asunder,
starting at the first
orifice I made when
I was blastula.
Start there and no matter
how much I cry,
keep pulling,
flesh from bone
until you get to the heart
and you can’t stop there
because you must peel away
the layers until there’s
a sphere of nothing
so the result will be
not letting my insides out
but finally,
gloriously,
letting everything
outside
into
me.

©JEF 1988


April is National Poetry Month!