A Silver Tongue Draws Out a Mountain
“I hear if you put this mountain into your mouth, it melts on your tongue like chocolate or a Eucharist,” he said, leaning on his shovel.
“I don’t think you mean mountain. I think you mean snowflake”, and I continue digging, cracking the earth like an egg.
“I don’t think I do. I know what a snowflake is, I’ve seen one up close”, and if by prophecy, the wind blows snow into his face and square onto his eyeball.
His wet face winces, and his puffed cheeks hold his breath as if it were a heavy Mass.
extract: from Latin, translates as “to draw out.”
It also means a distillation, an essence, a part of a book or poem, to forcibly remove or to deduce. So all of these.
“When you eat, you are mining, your teeth are mining, and mashed potatoes are extracted from the plate, like any old energy.”
“My mouth mine collapsed long ago, killing dozens,” and I plunked my dentures into bedside water.
Silver is used in searchlights, in X-rays and film
so it’s good at pointing things out to us
when we are in the dark.
A silver tongue seduces, gathers by charm. The mouth, a site of clever extraction and persuasion.
“Wasn’t this meant to be a drawing show?” she said.
“ It was,” I said, “but I was eating and fat dripped out of my mouth onto the paper.”
“Gross. You are not convincing anyone of anything by doing that.”