WORDKEEPER

This room
doubtful like a peach
tenanted Monday to Friday by his words
quite cheaply, in today's market -
bearing the prints of his weak vowels
on the mirrors and glasses of stale vodka
bruising on the inside with narratives
unable to leave

This room
of corners sharp as a quill
peeling letters that float like hapless kites
never to stain a page with their true meaning
This room, suspended from the sky
in the uneasy stillness of hope
housing the flavors of his speech
fearful they might fade
as he locks the door behind him
preparing to meet the weekend
wordless