There are dead lines
In my head
Buried somewhere
I scrabble frantically
But cannot sift through the layers
Of fantastic muck
I find half-buried heraldic uniforms
Full suits of armor
Claymores
And dirks
But not a single
Solitary
Word
I cannot find the words
They are dead
Buried
Gone
Leaving my tongue bereft
Alone
Stilled by grief
