Broken Squeak Toy Laugh
I laugh every day. I think too much and internalize it far too often. This is the release.traffic lights;
traffic lights;
i cut out my tongue to wear around my finger
slivers shredded and braided together and to
myself i whispered “for all the things i should
have remembered to say”
i would have cut out my heart of stone or flesh
concrete castle outsides, but tender rotting
meat waiting for dissection –it was removed
already by your talons, scalped by your beak
oh sparrow king, i thought this meant something
my liver is drowned in the sorrows of sporadic
drinking and pills used, once upon a time, to
pass the time, to speak in rhymes, to hum the
tunes to old forgotten lyrical lullabies
but now it is shipless on a sea of forgotten
words and consonants contrasted by syllables
rough sounding on your tongue like z and x
i digested your letters with shoe polish and
chlorox and wrapped myself in your sweater to
shoo off the shivers traveling simultaneously
down my s-shaped spine — the fetal positon
is now my war stance and my this “x” marks the
spot fortress on my chest has no moat or
supply enough to make it through the night
and green means go and red means stop
but, it’s all been cautionary yellow these
months and weeks to pass
