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\nA language fugue in plague major.
\nA fever that elates the imagination.
\nAn alien utterance in our midst.
\nTongues transformed to babbling towers
\nthat swell from between the teeth
\nto trumpet nonsense sibilant and dense.<\/p>\n
\nA language fugue in plague major.
\nA fever that elates the imagination.
\nAn alien utterance in our midst.
\nTongues transformed to babbling towers
\nthat swell from between the teeth
\nto trumpet nonsense sibilant and dense.<\/p>\n
While neighbors drone fluently
\nin dialects that stretch their lips
\nand distort the lines of their features,
\nthose uninfected stare in speechlessness.<\/p>\n
Unsettling as the jaundiced auburn sky
\nwhere reflected images of our cities
\nappear to blur elongate and dissolve,
\nit begins in the open marketplace
\nas Tarval the tailor rushes to his shop
\nto cut and stitch great pleated coats
\nwith sleeves for which we have no limbs.<\/p>\n
A generation past we wrought the hecatomb
\nthat emptied this world for our exploitation.
\nUnknown to us its slaughtered populace
\nsought vengeance in our veins: nanoscopic
\nviral snakes, coded to coil the DNA,
\ncorrupting our cells in a planned mutation.<\/p>\n
Alien values reverberate within our skulls.
\nWe crave foods that burn our bellies,
\nthat provide no sustenance or taste.
\nWe caress the lumps beneath our flesh
\nand accept the sights of our altered vision.<\/p>\n
Those indecipherable glyphs now make sense.
\nWe understand we have sinned against ourselves
\nand travel by caravan to their desolate hives
\nto don abandoned lives as a kind of reparation.<\/p>\n
On the solidified gel of fallen panes,
\nwhere decades of dust have mold-congealed,
\nwe sketch the figures of thwarted deities
\nwith our gnarled and native walking sticks
\nas the auburn winds begin to wail.<\/p>\n