Cognitive

Slithering esses* squirm through the thick air
binding down the words with concrete gees
and tees** and how I hate those hungry eiches***.
But rhythmic footsteps echo with the words whispered,
"I am still cognitive, I am still cognitive."
Perked auricles belong not to a dog, but a walrus
who turns over his wrinkled flesh, whiskers bristling
with strange interest. Slipping through the uneven shadows,
her icy legs and esses on rosy lips play hopscotch
on bouncing brick walls, with eyes averted
to follow twisting patterns in the heavy blocks.
And with sneakers silent on her path,
all she hears is esses whispering through the night,
"I am still cognitive, I am still cognitive."




*read as: "s"s
**read as: "g"s and "t"s
***read as: "h"s