The Swap

Let’s say you each and all changed
Place with some of the dead—not

That you died and they came back
To life, but that you all turned

Up at once in the next world,
While the dead lay, corpse or ash,

Souls or ghosts, down on the floors
Of your homes, grounds of your towns.

Where would you be then? In here,
Dear friends, all in here with us.

You’re here now, in fact. These words,
Names, and terms, all myth and math,

These are the groves that grow out
Of the graves of the dead, these

Take the place of their bones, these
Are their haunts and homes. If you

Find you are in a dense copse
Of old words, know you now take

The place of the dead. Know, too,
They’re now in your place, your bed,

Your flesh, your home, your head. If
Words could talk. . . . If you can talk. . . .