Oct 29th – Clinky and Clanky

11.15 – 11.25

October 29^th– Clinky and Clanky

She named them for the sound they made
when they walked: first a clink,
like loose change, or a light chain
unwinding.

The second was harsher, severe
almost, a clank of mistimed gears
or a cutlery drawer, shaken,
upsetting the spoons.

They kept her company, through the days
when people were in short supply
and the words that her mouth formed
were strangers.

She would sit on the floor, in darkness,
in semi-darkness, and in the hours
when the sun made stripes of shadows
and dissolved the ambiguities of corners,

and tell them stories, wordlessly,
in which they were actors,
uncomplaining, pushed across surfaces
and turned into parts

of something bigger than they were.
Their sounds were dialogue;
pain, joy, hope, despair,
their shapes danced to her touch.

As she grew, and the language
society demanded made strange
shapes of her mouth, and moulded
her thoughts, they moved less

through the narratives of her days,
and dust fell where her fingers left
no mark. She taught herself to fit,
to evolve, to do the things

they told her were right,
and in a corner of a lonely room,
the things that once were everything
sit still.

Daily prompts  from Putting My Feet In The Dirt