At Some Point

At Some Point

At some point the snake chokes 
on the bitterness
of its own tail. 

At some point the poet’s face grows 
lean and gaunt feeding 
on language and language alone. 

At some point the floor scored 
by walking walking walking gives way 
and the poet falls out into space 

and the air sings into his ears 
teaching him new words 
that have no shape, only tone, 

and the world returns 
in a rush like a late migration 
of Sandhill cranes 

coming home. 

Photo by Srinivasan Venkataraman on Unsplash