i have a stubborn mouth & i
have never been able to make myself
listen; nevermind the discipline it takes to
beat something enough & say you’ve taught it well
the forest called for my echoes and i
obliged, the small and landlocked thing i am
naked in the clearing, tongue out & collecting
the dew that nestles behind my teeth
learning what full sounds like
trying to open the concrete wall
i call my throat to make a sound
just like that
my vocal chords instead
learned the art of making
animal noises, to call out in the night
for mothers who won’t hear me
& the flutter of dying light
caught between my hands
& what an ugly melody i can make
when i’ve got nowhere else to go
& the sting of overworked muscles
tearing to grow
& i’m telling you there is more to
my voice than these wailing songs
how i trained myself to sing
a string of half thought apologies
how a certain type of purgatory
is still a house but even i have accepted
this mouth will never know
what home tastes like