Words are fickle friends 

They often squirm away from you 

like a child

who doesn't want her face wiped

 

Today I have lost my words

Swallowed by the panic 

Which overtook my tongue 

this morning while I held that squirming child 

 

My mouth tastes different with the words taken out 

Dry and bitter without the sweet syllables 

I open wide

Hoping to catch them again 

So that I might speak another phrase

And write another poem