“It beggar’d all description”
- Anthony and Cleopatra, Shakespeare
You could anchor the tip of your tongue
in my mouth and sing my diagnosis--
sing through the spaces of my body,
as if it had surfaced out of Lethe,
filling each blank with your breath:
only then would each caesura ring true,
my paraphasia-medic,
in the sieve of your mouth
with the song that would sing out
my drowning.