Poetry by Ed Buffaloe
IX.
Words so long silent
We no longer need speak
them
Lie chiseled in stone awaiting
Discovery by mute quarrymen
Ancient glyphs seeking voice again
Call out as from a dream where
Sound remains unintelligible
Mental genome reduced
to babble
Phonemes rehearse themselves in vacuum
Silent speech for the dead whispering
A song without words
Will be your requiem