February 2018
Dead Language & The Afterlife of Poems
by Frank Candeloro
I speak an ancient tongue
No one understands -
A tongue so dead
You can’t feel it in your mouth -
A language so dead
You can only see it
In the dark.
The Afterlife of Poems
Poems die when I write them.
I bury them in words.
Push the stone from my mouth -
Resurrect them!