What is the word for the first moment of your morning?
How does it stretch, waking and how does it move across the room?
What color is the trail it leaves behind?
How do you hold your words in your mouth?
Softly at the tip of your tongue, before they spill where they will?
– Who steps on them?
Or tightly against your teeth –
building with the force of a gale wind?
– What walls can they tear down?
If your words were faeries/fairies, what would they touch, and how?
Where would you forbid them to wander?
What kind of damage could they do?
Who might they save?
If your thoughts were sentences etched in stone
along the walls of a narrow valley
what would travelers passing through
christen the place?
What words have you uttered that you would call back
and what would happen if you swallowed them whole?