my tongue was a fish flopping
for water on the river bank
the hook still caught in its mouth
my words clotted
before they could emerge
from the open wound of my mouth
I choked on them, drowning.
Girls did that to me – –
But I wrote – –
words had seduced me
seduced me into belief
in their power to transform
so much so I believed
their power was mine
a transubstantiation
like water into wine
I wrote to them
to Monette, to Yolanda
long letters and poems about anything
a flash flood of teen obsession
bravado and love
I meant it all,
without any regard for them
the words floundered on the page
without any one to listen
a mouth opening and closing on air
(November 2010)
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