When alphabets pride
Themselves in past lives,
When vowels feel pain
Without new forms,
Action becomes a warden.

When punctuation prides
Itself into short lives,
Where vowels feel pain
Combined into forms
Of actions, it becomes warden.

When passing wardens pride
Themselves with unkarmic life,
Where vowels form pain
Scattered into forms
Of reactions of flagellated wardens…

There are no words.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 11/11/07