Poetry

The words are Elements
inhabiting us
for the sake of expression.
They shape themselves
into screams and melodies –
Primal upheaval –
concentrated like acid
they burn and scar,
strip off the skin
and reveal the hidden core.

It is delicate –
balancing them along
coils of brains
and cells of nerves
until they reach
tips of fingers
and clothe the blankness
of pages in wait.

I struggle –
to hold them in shape
to let them flow.

Childbirth must be less intellectual