Spells

Imagine if, instead of dogs,
You had domesticated wolves
To be terracotta statues,
Household gods, amber amulets,

And wingless messenger pigeons
You carried yourselves in battles.
Imagine that you tamed horses
To recite edicts and statutes,

To post themselves at boundaries
And wait there, mutely, centuries.
Imagine you’d hammered your tongues
Into bricks and reliquaries.

Ah, that last one you’ve really done.
Of all your domestications,
Repurposings, transformations,
Could any be weirder, further

From the source’s nature, than scripts?
Glyphs, chips, scratches—doesn’t matter—
Could written languages be less
Like spoken words or signed gestures?

Oh, you may think we’re pretty close,
Call some of us pictographic,
Claim we’re easily converted
Back into our aural packets,

But let’s face script. We’re as bizarre,
These written forms, as wolves made spells,
Horses carved into boundaries,
If we do say so, still, ourselves.