Larry Thacker, 7/12

Spoken words are not our native tongue

 

but rather, something deep set in the eyes,

heart-pressured pulses behind dimmed sight,

so infinitesimal and delicate to be audible

when only the swirl of amniotic fluid competed

for our attention, muffled movements just past

our shared cave of skin and muscle and heartbeat,

drifting in awe, unable to mutter what is known

before breathing. What words can relate our

transfixed view of the womb’s planetarium?

 

 

Larry Thacker serves as Associate Dean of Students at Lincoln Memorial University.

Promote. Poetry.
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