Sticks

You throw stones
I put up sticks
the sound we make
is a thunder
when wind wails up
a push through each room
door blows open
letters get tangled
from A onto Z
we put them together
so hard to read
In a constant come-around
Believe me, I should know by now
Remind me how this goes
Broken bones, broken bones
Acquiescent to the tone
Believe me, I should know, I should know
But show me how this goes
Broken bones, broken bones
You carry sticks
I pile up stones
the space between us
sounds like distance
a word so simple to spell
the sentence that we build
is a thunder