Poetry

Inarticulate

Clank Clank Clank

At the dinner table
plates and greetings shoot
across the rectangle,
chanting to liberation

Tongue-tied, ill-rotten grammar
he sits at the corner
labeled as atypical
sometimes difficult
but the frenetic cube
has never been precipitated

His gearing eyes parse through details
translating back to his pocket world
Eccentric syntax grows from the oldest magic tree
Stirring the fragments of his dialect heart

Clank Clank Clank

Till glasses and toasts elapse
following kisses and goodbyes
twining away,
it’s just another day for the boy
to put up in its place

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