Words Poem by Grace Hutton
Words
I watched my lips curve into a bow
I pulled them taut and shot my arrow
My tongue
My words
The thrumming of my larynx
The resonance of my mouth, my cheeks like the skin of a drum
From war to dance
From weapon to drum
From this to that
As all good words must be.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: dance,lips,words
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8/28/2026 6:54:16 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
