The Size of Words

this poem will have

no oceans and sands,

no rain-forest fumes,

no magic flutes,

no snakes and fairy-tales

the only thing this poem will have

is small words

words which walk side by side

and adjust their breathing

to the same rhythm,

then tell their stories

through silences

words which kidnap the mind

and keep it a hostage

in a purple dream

without a ransom

or hope of reprieve

words which fly high

like a skirt up the thighs

cycling down a drafty street

only moon-lit late at night

and someone to meet

words which sing you a lullaby

and take your head in the palms

of their hands, slowly,

their fingertips brushing your

earlobes, lightly

words you’d like to hold in your arms

but can’t even keep close at hand

because with each syllable,

they burst into smithereens

and - to the sounds of enchanting tunes

from faraway fairy lands  -

rain down on the world

as forests,

as water,

as sand.