Dead Language

In the dry season
cacti blossom
so do I.
I know most
prefer the rain
but, what I love is dead
ness, it lies
below the leaf
empty trees, skeletal
grasses, lizard’s scepters.
What I love is silence
which of course
does not exist, but almost
now when there is
no grazing earth’s
broken bones
erupt from decimated
flesh. The dirt, dust, pulverized
years, sand made of glass
blown in inert fires
within the molten womb.
Boulders jut, jagged molars
cursive swallows,
scrawled horizons,
speak in tongues.
Profound tones rise
in elephant phrases
morse code
broadcast through the soles
of naked contact.

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer

This entry was posted in living in Mexico, Mexico, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , by vsvevg. Bookmark the permalink.

About vsvevg

Hello, I'm Abby Smith. I started this blog in 2010 to write about the pursuit of a self-sustainable life in rural Mexico. In 2015, my then-husband and I moved to Nicaragua, where we created a successful farm-to-table and in-house charcuterie program for a high-end beach resort. In 2022, with mad butchery and cheese-making skills under my belt, I started a sustainable food systems consulting business. Happily, I also have more time for my first love-- writing about food and the complexities of the simple life.

1 thought on “Dead Language

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s