There is one word that stands
Alone from all if’s and and’s,
Which has no face or hands,
Which, like a glistening bubble,
Floats above the verbal rubble,
Floats too high to be obscene,
Moving moveless and serene.
The word has never been spoken
Past teeth perfect or broken.
No tongue has been known to shape it,
Or fools’ babble to leak it or ape it.
Desperation, fear, or hatred’s keening
Can summon the word’s meaning,
But not the name of the word.
“There's no such thing! That’s absurd!”
Men cry — not quite saying the word.
