The History of
Speech
Tricia Knoll
Those ancients on
the riverbank
heard furred ones
thrill to the night sky
or moan to death
throes. They knew
sounds for news
meant to be heard.
They did not hear
the snake
whisper its
passage through tall grass
until they had
seen shed skins
in the dry rustle
of left behind.
The old women
showed younger ones
how to nuzzle in
their babies’ neck skin,
how to purr and
sniff at the folds and rolls
that boasted of
fatness against winter.
Beneath warm
coverings of night
as sparkling fires
of sap wood popped,
they spooned into
each other
and drew out
murmurs of stretched peace.
Oh, there were
warnings
high-pitched and
loud.
Whinings of
fatigue.
The sobs of
mourning.
Calls to move
again
in the m-m-m-m of
throats
that know living
beyond lingering,
brilliance beyond
stars.
Poet’s Notes: I have a voice disability, spasmodic dysphonia, which tends to come on
in later decades of a person's life. I have been thinking a great deal about
speech and talk and communication.
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