Migdal Bavel
Prepositions never travel alone; they are always with an object. The object of each preposition is an elephant.A continent with horns attached. What do elephants sound like when sleeping?My son heard a song, sung in Fulani.Musicians playing kora and mbira.There was clapping. A woman was singing.An assembly of soundshapers, garbed in cloth. My son did not understand the words,but he said they sung my name.They did sing my name. They did.They also sing when they are alone,naked and bathing.What is for us to do and not do?Locate the funnels of our capacity into position, to steward small things through narrow passages.Unclear to me if we ought to build so tall;a Babel Tower.Grounding our foundations in the breast of the netherworld, tying the ribbons that adorn the vestments and the uniformsof our military and clergy to the roots, dangling from heaven.The vast mind that the gods who we createdlet us possess. We blame gods, not ourselves.How I have loved the languages of this world!Yet, when faced with death, I find myself appreciating not understanding them.Long branches shooting forward, wild roses,abundant grammar thorns you couldn’t possibly count. If you choose to be patient and lift each leaf,the barbs of wild roses, the prefixes, impossible spelling spilling,tenacious and returning, hooked onto your sleeve now.Suffixes, growing up around houses using other bushes as armature. The flowers quickly blooming, then follows what?A shower of fine petals falls to the earth below, wet with rain.Always the hint of a musky ferret in the scent a rose, the kiss of a weasel.Do you smell it?