I know a plethora of words.
In English mostly,
but some in Spanish,
some in German, some
that mean words but are 
signs language instead. 
Today, every 
of those words I know,
that vast ocean of them,
is failing me.
I gawp in incomprehension.
I’m groping for them in the dark, but
they’re sliding away slickly 
like a hockey puck on ice.
They come in but they won’t
go back out, won’t
march in the lines
I try to herd them into.
All my words have escaped
save for the ones I needed
to write this poem.