this poem was going to
be about me, a really good one
i could feel it in my teeth
the way they ground together
edge to edge, a squeak
before shattering
close so close
if i could remember a word
just one word
i could piece it together
water the seed
watch it grow
i’d never have to write again
because after i put that to paper
what else
what more could i
have to add
walking in a land
where i am not heard
i cannot hear the words
of the army of deaf mutes
only the popping
of gristle as they work their
jaws like meat grinders
or am i the one
who makes no sound
and cannot receive
a benediction
Words and Feathers 