The Word Lost Far
Inside a brain the word lost far is pale,
As pale as Arctic twilights long gone, past
Remembrance, past a blizzard’s long lost veil,
But paleness does not mean there is no vast
Sensation, pain that mimics numbness. No,
The polar opposite is true. The pain
Is felt there in the tongue. It gives a glow
To balked frustration. It is like a stain
Across the crippled mind. The blot is blight
Between the thought and tangled speech. A storm
As still as any frozen thing can be seems slight
(To those who have not known this iceberg form).
All language is a glacier inside,
A moveless glacier, a doom implied.