At the border between speech and gesture,
Dust of water in the salty eyes survives unmussed
And stirs up dark in other people’s kindness.
It is the tongue-free that embellish the hands
In the way they carve and love air,
And take its rawness to the applauding ears.
There has never been more weight in the light silence
Of the gestures that paint our air
And words are saved for the greedy paper.
Yet, what is left draws the intimacy that lives
In-between words, waves and voices.