Truths are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions…coins which have lost their embossing and are now considered as metal and no longer as coins.

– ‘On Truth and Lies in an Extramoral Sense’

So when you told me
my vocabulary intimidated
you and I didn’t know
quite what to say, except to gush
about how much
I ‘love’ language;
heroic precision,
the etymology of virtue
-sheer numismania
of a formation such
as exeleutherostomize,
for instance-
the however-many words for snow,
the tyrannies we wage
against each other, ourselves,
and the longing for
which there’s no
word, inevitably,
in the language
-though others seem to manage
a more approximate relation-
to lay down
in the glaze of your eye’s
vacuumed warmth.
Their frozen flux.
That certain death sentence.
To yield.

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