Smell is the one.

You can grasp the salt-

stung sea edge.  Find

the beloved’s hair

across any room.  Rub

five-petalled cinquefoil

until your nose is yellow

under Arctic sun.  Now

the world’s hum fades.

The deep bark next door

is a megaphone covered in wool.

On the movie screen lovely lips

move and move.  You can stare.

You can put your hands

on your own teeth.  Eat sound.

Swallow words spilling one by one

from every blessed mouth.