nounless

i'm running out
of nouns, she tells me
in her e-mail, i'm
shaking my canteen
once full of words
and coming up dry.
i used to swim in
the ocean of language,
but now my lips
are parched
and sore with
the sharp points
of letters that won't
form. my mouth refuses
to cooperate with what
i want to say. i'm
buying a thesauras
once i get out of this
conversational desert.
i can't live like
this, in silence, until
the end of my days.