It was the language that left us first.

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(poetry diary 114) Last night I went looking for poems about ears, because my own are all stuffed up.  Found this lovely thing….

The Ear is an Organ Made for Love – E. Ethelbert Miller 

       (for Me-K)

It was the language that left us first.
The Great Migration of words. When people
spoke they punched each other in the mouth.
There was no vocabulary for love. Women
-
Read rest of poem 

 

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