lay the mute fork in my lap

say incomprehensible things about love

say domestic things about life and hate

say not knowing how to tell death from technical death

say the anguish over the cat’s communication 

lay the naked knife in my lap

say forbidden things about the thought of flower

say things under the nails of the dead

between their hairs

lay the dirty plate in my lap

say things and say and dance the fingers

lay the cracked glass in my lap

say things say things and all I hear is the tear in this our gentle language