Memo Poem by Elizabeth Liechti

What are you reading?
Words. Words. Words.
Words have a funny way of becoming as real as credit card statements
As chest-pain inducing as teenagers
Learning to drive and getting stuck in reverse
Or doing most anything really.
Get into the little cage and slam the door
Before the black storm tide of bulls can fill the street one moment
Next moment: Silence.
An upturned paving stone, and gentle dust
Wafting down a shaft of burnished light.