Next Set of Words

I touch her forehead and spell t-h-i-n-k

the word
propels know out to a sun
way beyond the scarred
sky concealed in her practical mind.

Later I add perhaps
concepts so open-ended

the degree of risk is daunting

and then forget remember
and watch her dredge
a sunken image from her sea of stone
without a rope of words
to tug the line.

I follow the suggestions she gives me.

Expect she learns
and lifts the future from a pile of gray
and airless ash.

But without an adverb
like slowly, I want to warn her
move cautiously, speed
is the devil
fast the devil's hand.

Possibly she runs right past me
past my expectations she runs.

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