June 7, 2020


posted on: Thursday September 13, 2018

by Erin Venuti ’20

a dying heart beat on a monitor

Photo courtesy of oklahomaheart.com

The day the words died,
I felt everything.
Beneath my paper skin,
I sensed the germ set in
And the illness begin,
Corrupting all forms of word,
Noun, preposition,
Adjective, and verb.

Beneath my paper skin, I felt
The pulse ceasing
To beat beat.
Beat beat.
The syllables decreasing.
Beat, beat.
My imagination leaving.
Beat —

Mind blank.
Page plain.
Words fade
Like freckles in December.
Gone from my eyes
Too fast to eulogize.

In that winter
Of my spring
I spent hours
To rekindle
The life of the letters
(Like Victor
And his creature.)

Yet, nothing.

I felt everything and nothing
The day the words died.

Often now
I lay down
In my field of poppies
And I think about how
I felt everything and nothing
The day the words died.
But out of those words grow
The words of today and tomorrow.
New words,
young words,
these words.

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