Aphasia Daydreams
by Rae Rozman
Art by Austin Brown
Words twirl against your tongue,
fall like [water droplets from the sky]
into your coffee.
You chase them with a slotted spoon,
fish out the ones you hope make sense,
hang them on [the thing that spins, on the ceiling, with the blades]
until they dry.
Last night you left a sentence in my bed,
its fragments shifting and….
Reorganizing....
into something I read as a poem.
That may not have been what you meant.
Austin Brown, Day 42: The Spoons Are Disappearing, Photograph
