Syntax of Distancing
Your hand over my mouth
betrays that rush of I ams
irrupting deep within this red
sore throat. A vocal landscape,
littered with its consonants
and vowels you will not make
your own, collapses, high ridge
of old amalgam fillings once
more no bridge to borderlands
between teeth and tongue.
On the map of my sharp jaw
bone you sketch dropped Rs,
flat As, no me. I let you stutter,
the percussive hisses of air
beyond our lips, a shushing syntax
of distancing, not one word said.
2014 © Maureen E. Doallas
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
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1 comment:
I would love to have been inside of your head when you wrote this. It stirs many memories inside of me and also taught me the word "irrupting."
"littered with its consonants and vowels you will not make your own" - powerful
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