Miscommunication

My mongoose breathed a story,
words dripping in bright colors
from his mouth
to shatter at my feet.

Songbirds escaped from my eyes
to chase the winter bubbles that formed
from the creature’s broken syllables.

The savor of Chaos shifted
to a perfect D minor,
and its tremor splashed shadows
across the canvas of feathers and fur.

They surfed above me
on a vermilion wind
which tasted like Persian sunshine
and smelled like painted starlight.

Sound failed my tongue
and vanished from my ears,
for colors abandoned me on shimmering wings
to join the beasts in flight.

My feet turned to stone
as their eyes slid around their heads
to capture me.

They asked me why I had no face.
I told them I had not heard the tale.