Wade in the water with the holy ghost
who holds space between beats, resting
between one moment and the next, curled
in the trough of the breaking wave, the tongue.
Wait awhile on the surface til the spirit falls.
Then go under in a drowned hush
into loud silence. Rise releasing your voice
liquid through throat’s vibrating reed.
Pour forth a fountain from the deep.
Sound syllables, touching both the last and
the one to come. Speak out in witness
to the line, the words inhabited.