upset. bee in bonnet, tinnitus.
speak, memory, speak. silence/
rage. in between, the story.
only the storytellers survive.
Garp's tongueless fellowship
my sister, my mother. my tongue
the size of plagues and allergy,
speaking all foreign languages
bullshit included. my hands.
my tongue. always too large,
too loud, too much. monsters
of the deep- friends, lovers.
how their songs blister the air.
how their howling disturbs the peace.
violet hives form along my gums,
inside the tender damp mouth skin
rise like welted rolls down the seam of tongue.
i am forced to tell the story
i am forced to remember
you may believe this is a choice
if that makes it less painful for you.
amazing.
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