Lydia Flores

Making Boardwalks Out of Borders

there is a language
the tongue cannot
kiss the teeth to speak
but there is a silence
only the hands know
a sunrise upon the face
and that body is
a rising hallelujah.

Shape the words into
a mother tongue of signs—
wonders splayed across
the space of mouths
an orchestral poem
of quiet if you just

with the eyes
of your heart
hear the symphony
of prayer, the
cacophony of
talk over coffee
the vibrato of a
nonverbal song.

Look, hands are singing now
& making boardwalks out of
borders, you’ve built with
your mouth; healing
the wounds of your ears
will you learn to listen now?
hands are oceans reaching
shores of a language your
throat cannot cross
there’s a sign for this…

hands up & unclosed
dancing, talking
signing &
bodies of wonder
waking the world
to drop their tongues.

read lydia's biography

return to issue 5: August 2017