This is how I prefer to talk,
Out of another neck.
Without the 19 extraneous letters.
With cords that tremble at the whim of my fingers,
Instead of the force of my thoughts
Whose tension is all in the turn of a key,
I can hold.
Not one lodged in my heart.
It used to be,
How I feel would congeal,
Choke me like hands through my throat,
But now the arms wrapped around my voice box are all mine.
Now the weight of my voice is external.
I can put it down,
Lock it away
And know it won’t move
For when I need my voice back.
4
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