We speak in codes
Not because the house is bugged
Though every sensible fiber
Points twelve o'clock
There is a silence at 3
Even with the power lines
Even with the humidifier
The air purifier and the field mice
I should strikethrough silence
And drop in hush
Or cut-delete silence
And paste in hum
But then it is known
The tensile wavelengths I fail to mention
Are not just there
But growing outside the scope of perception
Outside the window
Out past the vines
That wind around fence posts
Like tense clock springs
Waiting to clink and clank and click
We speak in codes
Not because we fear the tick
Although a mighty adversary
We drown our fears in combustibles
After tweezing out the painful bits
Knowing it might be too late
Past midnight and past three
Past the dusty cake of earth
And rivers of fat
Past the courteous subcutaneous
Into the circadian highway
Buoyant and free
Making allegiances with those that will receive
Sending forward messages that might deceive
More subversive than a fake moustache
More elusive than a viper's tail
Or a vapor trail or a vibrant detail
We speak in codes
Not because we fear the creeper
The ankle weights are just too much
A sense of clan and order
But also a red flag having crossed the border
We speak these halves
Because wholly anything is just too much
Deeply embedded in the shank
Before it was a splinter
When it was just raw red oak
Or plank or lignum vitae
Down in the foxhole
When tree is sufficient
Wood is sufficient
We get right to it
But above ground
In the majesty of daylight
We run in diagonals
So as not to confuse our nature
Diverting the whole of it
Wrapping it with a yellow ribbon
And whispering bitter fruits behind it
We remember that there is no back
No front or side
Only twirling around
Until we are dizzy enough to sleep
Keeping the lines of communication open
The tubes of evaporation sloping
The runes of remuneration unspoken
Comments