Origin of Language II | Eleanore Tisch

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2 mins read

                                    “—get on all fours

and let me open the floor of you. Let me

break your case and tie you to the sky

from behind, stretched hide in a circle.

Let me thunder drum under you until

it hurts and you burst into pebbles.

I promise to catch every piece and

hold them out to lightning so bolts can

blast you back together. You feel that

fulgurite? Evaporated mammal sweat

and grey blue breath of morning pouring

forward?  You smell that melting sand?

I noticed you’ve been needing something

missing, I’ve been there before. You taste

that pivot point? That fulcrum taking turns

both fast and slow? Don’t be embarrassed

by your clacking shells, can’t you smell

the fingers of first light on our horizon?

Let me linger on your shoulder bruise

bloom purple blush and boulder for you

what I see you can’t contain yourself,

I see you holding burdens on the banks

of other shores so I bought a one-way

ticket to the bottom of your world. I meant

to ask but got distracted by the movement

of your curls and the mollusk mark you

musk me with,

                        I meant to say—”


Eleanore Tisch has lived many lives, worn many hats, and swam through many waters. She is a poet and educator, born and raised in Chicago. She has a BA in Writing & Literature from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University, and an MA in Education Foundations, Policy, and Practice from the University of Colorado at Boulder. Her chapbooks Salad Box Poems and Water : Write : Wave can be found at Bottlecap Press and Dancing Girl Press, respectively. She is currently working towards her MFA in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University.