THE READER OF THE TOUCH was fired Poem by Miroslav Kirin

THE READER OF THE TOUCH was fired.
Actually, he forgot his own language.

For there where the touch was
now a merciless clutch coils,

python-like, crawling in the bed and stammering
instead of talking, strangling instead of caressing.

And the speaker of the body was fired, too.
Actually, he never really had a job.

For there where the body mattered,
words were overflowing,

caressing instead of strangling,
talking instead of touching.