Linguistics performed as tragedy

Today the sun will set, or has set, on a desert somewhere, the color of the sky like pale flesh. And when the wind picks up, the image scatters, fades. The girl's words become sand expelled from her throat, slicing the image in her eyes. The words, if they could be said, could not connect to images, are scattered letter by letter. And though the letters themselves have shapes, well, soon enough those shapes will wear away. You won't remember the girl in the desert, or the setting sun, the wind, you can't picture it; you'll never say her name--you never knew it, did you? But now and then you'll stagger, your throat will burn, as if caked with sand. And then what lines can be uttered?