Everyday

Everyday

At least one prayer comes out as a flame.
Syllables sip saliva and slide out
Under the breath of your name,
Untranslated, but slated for repetition,
saying something to me,

Saying something to be
beyond a doubt
more than a mutter.
This slyabic stutter that won’t go out
gives way to every day
speaking more of you.

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