No Such Thing

No such thing as speaking here, not a word
in that language, only the splashy noises
at the end of the pen, recalling the silences
of reading my father’s books: the Greek body,
the sandclock of obedience for children.

The stars are bigger than they were then,
frost apples
&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:&nbsp:among which the doctor’s soul
flies, looking for its victim.

At the solstice of sanity
fear takes prisoners. There are no
words for it, how they
do it in their language,
dementia, madness, wretch, ruin,
understanding not one of their words,
not a word,
no such thing.