Drum Drum

I hear the soul in languages I do not know.
It is a way to live in the world:
naked
open
and a little bit
afraid.
Follow the tongues that know
to make a heartbeat.
The ones that patter
like a fox on the forest floor
or patter like rain
when it discovers it knows
to dance
with tin.
Follow the tongues that roll
that landslide
that cast boulders into hungry ocean
then tickle the roof of the mouth
when the ocean blows kisses,
offering its water to the sky.
Follow the tongues that flirt
with their consonants
and bow to their vowels.
That let a hum sink to the bottom
of the throat
then draw it back up
with a rupture
with a laughter
with a cry.
Those are the tongues that will lick
nectar straight from its source.
The ones that will lick the knowing
from the body
and decide to like the taste of it.
Drum drum
I like your rain.
I sit in your language and it's the best
lost I've ever known.
I do not know all that you say
but my bones
feel all
as you say it.