The Evolution of Language
The alphabet passes through many forms;
it is conjured like lava
from an opening in the body—
names are named or unnamed,
lost or stolen articles are listed:
what is buried, what is embalmed,
what is burned, what is fed in strips to the crows and vultures.
After they are staunched,
they speak softly
and, slow to anger, grow red two days later
louder, now, and somehow still fresh as a kill.
Over a few months, the language turns
a ruddy rouge, tinged with brown;
not shouting, now, but speaking carefully
like a woman into a microphone before an all-male Congress.
Who would ever disparage an alphabet
that turns from red to silver?
For a little while, at least,
It could never be misunderstood.
It would never be ignored.
To a linguist, at least,
it is sad how these alphabets can pass away within only one or two years of their creation,
leaving no more than a texture; a language divined only by fingertip.