or small eyeballs with tiny pupils,
or thought bubbles,
each containing a full stop
No! A full beginning
a drip of ink
After some pondering
the bubbles burst
and out come black,
forming and reforming a silent wriggling caligraphy
The letters change, as the writing becomes mature.
But it’s still hard to read. French? Maybe.
All you can be sure of : it’s not the kind of writing you’d find in deserts, hot or cold
for the ink would freeze solid or dry out
You have heard of people eating their words?
Sometimes these letters eat each other, as languages do
And then as if climbing off the page
escape out, into the world
the thoughts have sound, they are not letters anymore
they are each a word
and they hop!