They talk around
the crucible. Then
she’s silent.
The taxi driver tries
to keep the conversation
from dying.

Words ping
against a thick steel
wall. Words fail
to launch. Words form
a heap at the foot
on the near side.

They stain.
They have no power
to die

despite their malfunction.
Because of their malfunction.
The water on the far side
catches fire. She’s got nothing
to say except:
put it out.

Another lake ceases
to exist.