My lips no longer flow with superfluous idioms.
There is no clever spouting of resolving quips.
No playful jaunting,
no complex queries,
thrust back in a verbal duel.
How could a poet be at a loss for words?
Have I lost my talent for vernacular?
Has my tongue become dried and shriveled
like Medusa’s snakes?
Or has the banter of daily life lost its zest?
Have I been drained of the enthusiasm for social propriety?
I can only conclude that the issue is mute.
I do not care.