Poetry | Becoming Known | Mary Ann Schaefer

Becoming Known listen
Maybe we could be 
an alphabet, be lines and 
dashes, curls and swirls, 
a sweep or a coil, 
a cross, then a point 
for emphasis, any mark, 
really, even a splotch 
would leave impression
enough.  Then we could 
really sound each other 
out, each character could
raise the diaphragm to
pump a breath from 
lung to trachea, 
bubbling through
the vocal folds 
tensing and relaxing 
like gills, up past 
the dangling uvula 
into nasal and oral 
cavities where teeth 
and tongue and lips
enunciate our 
want.  Think of it!
We could simply be
utterance, each 
character a phoneme
contra dancing around, 
one with another in 
endless combinations of 
compound continuants 
and variable vowels,
saying what wants to be
heard:  yes, oh yes, let
it be our desire 
scratching tattoos
across the pages, 
folding and unfolding 
like millions of origami 
wings swarming, 
rising,
inexplicably,
as one.