Smell is the one.
You can grasp the salt-
stung sea edge. Find
the beloved’s hair
across any room. Rub
five-petalled yellow
cinquefoil under the nose
in Arctic sun. Now the world’s
hum fades. The dog’s bark
next door is a megaphone
covered in wool. On the movie
screen lovely lips move and move.
You can put your hands on your
own teeth. Eat sound. Swallow
words spilling one by one
from eery blessed mouth.