If the speakers can bellow
with all the boast and gloat
of the small hour swamp
what is a whisperer
who is learning to
wrap their mouth
around the
moldy and corrupt
sigils
What is the child
who must shape
their croaks into
wet hisses
only for the ears of
one
only for the ivory stilts
to dance
like cobras
when they
rise like purple grey
dawn
