What Big Words You Have, Grandma

Indirectly, we are
Writing to each other.
Yes, we go through your minds,

Which requires your bodies,
But there we meet, floating
In a cathedral light.

You share us, deposit
Us with those you talk to
Face to face, those you send

Letters, other signals.
You gather us from books,
From the air, from the screens—

It doesn’t matter how.
We arrive encysted
And you engage with us,

Release us to mingle
In your thoughts with other
Thoughts from many others,

And here we are, not quite
Voices, but wriggling threads
Of meaning, erupted

And mingling, whether we
Comment on your weather,
Your kin, revolution,

Or rehashed memories
Gradually reforming,
The better to fit us.