Babble

By Nica Giromini
Say under land
are remembered and muddy
rushes, slows. Next

to nothing migrates
up. Like ladders
of new fungus

ladder limestone rock only
just thinkable
and untooled into,

I moved my feet
then saw prints of no
value. I was born

and did not speak.
Took taking place in
increments. Speech,

in the specks
of sounds I forgot
how to make, machine,

animal, grabbable,
still indexes only desire
in the throat opening.

Notes:

Lines in this poem take up and alter language from Daniel Heller-Roazen’s Echolalias (Zone Books, 2005).

Source: Poetry (April 2024)