pale words

which words
left unused
will sprout mushrooms
and slime molds?

i can’t speak them
for fear of engaging
with the rotting

i used to know more words
for any thing on the planet
than anyone else
i used to be the tongue

and now i’m nothing
silent
afraid to speak

those words
that have been lying fallow
and are now sprouting white fronds
that would smell like death on my lips

i will bend over
for them someday
but today i am cold enough

my lips turning blue
cold enough
to be sure
that all they would do is chill me more

speaking the dead words
hearing them in my skull
shaking my jaw

i am unready
knowing i will have to speak them
eventually but today
i want to live without them

no grazing upon the white flesh today
no time allotted for them
although i gaze long and hard

at them
growing there
in a pile of waste
waiting