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They don't speak like us


They don't speak like us
loudly they don't
they talk across death
they know the source
they go at it
not like us
we got walls
we got ahead
we can¹t turn round.

Trees along the far hill
are breathing
wood exhaling
leaves wipe away
at distant thought.

They don't speak like us
we think on fences
we got big doors
they don't speak like us
how would we speak?
The dead son talks in stir
cop ignorant
we don't know.

The trees, grass
blushes brown
near the fence
twists at the sun
trees on the far hill
no sound
breath still held
in them
exhalation of west sun
tinge views of twilight.

Clicking of houses
flap of doors
dog at the gate
yap out low departure
we can understand
they don't speak like us
our coming
try to tell something
we don't speak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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