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Voiceless poem

Though I'm mute before you don't think me silent. I lost my voice in an ocean of grasses when ostriches crosses the horizon, necks bobbing as if masts in nightmares. You talk of climates and dogs, the role of the dollar and price of gold, what one neighbor said of another, jellyfishes with lavender flounces. I'm mute before you but sentient. I lost my voice by a waterhole awaiting lions. Nine appeared. You discuss the Dalmation coast, the shearing of sheep and whipping of cream, failings and fallings of ancient dictators, replacements and recycled wars. I am mute. I lost my voice in a palace of thatch singing with princes till dawn. You run through the table of elements, encyclopaedias of possible plots, catalogue your adventures, report on reboundings of stocks. I lost my voice in a battered cove where pelicans dove for speckled fish. You too become mute. Then we play violins by the fire, conversing all night.


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