My heart’s arteries
entangle my tongue,
puppet strings to pull
a curled locution
from the deceptive air.
I’m unsure what to say
that can remain mine:
what agency am I allowed
within joy’s paradox?
Yet another clichéd trope
offers only clichéd
responses as sacrifice
to unsought desire.
Words can no more
serve as an arbiter
to a languishing love
than broken plates
scattered on the floor.
(June 7, 2015)
subtext 