Girls and Her

Those words meant for your ears

Were retting in this woman's belly,

And she set her fingers to communicate

Through the belly skin with the words, trying

To appease the conflict between words

And the differences between this moment and the next.

She put words in order,

Lining them up and setting out.

Lips parted, she lets out a deep sigh;

The prolonged breath

Grubs out of her heart

A girl who is sighing,

A person who is spitting out another girl.

They come out of her heart, unfailingly

Producing more girls. The girls line up.

A row of long-haired

Sighing girls.

They crouch down, lie down,

Caress her belly, tap on her well-formed word procession

And shatter the existing order.

They breathe rascally against her,

Mumbling nonsense.

They’ve wrecked it all.

They’ve turned her into a stuttering fool.

Listen, she's struggling to form

A few words that remain intact. She says, “I….”

What does the "I" need? What will happen to "I"?

"I" awaits eagerly to speak with you.

The sound of the "I" lasts in her mouth

For quite a while,

And no second sound appears.

They have nothing more to do and jump back into her mouth.

I do not go back,

I stay by her side, wiping her tears.