• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 05

Strange things come out of your mouth

Strange things come out of your mouth
you hear blame between the breaths
for the thoughts as they line waiting to exit
like preschoolers with heavy backpacks, your head

it is said in space, to no one in particular
that there's a sense of absurdity
in choices you make, perhaps,
you need to learn to be more affirmative

with baby steps and small-talk
refrained in your presence like a memorized song:
start with the little things, paint red your lips
resize your hips, with practice and with time

attain clarity in diction
for bizarre things jump out of your mouth,
to be held but not ingested; twine, twigs, tufts of truths
that are like dreams, foundations to nothing

that are not conducive to where your feet are grounded,
that pertain to the hysterics of an overworked brain-
that lend time to an under-worked body that memorizes
emotion as a road-map to navigate the hours of the day

opening and closing the lips
atone to a tone that is not forceful
that does not lend itself to power
that is only granted gender once it steps outside of your mouth


Strange things come out of your mouth

then lands swiftly on mistaken ears
that are deaf to the sound of talk about intimacy
or beats in the rhyming of a heart
or glory in fabric wrapping hips in place of wounds

that are brushed out like knocked out teeth,
easily fixed, there's a solution to everything;
to the pains of labor, to the times you were shrunk
into a smaller body with a non-proportioned head

there's a fix for everything- one for your unborn children
one for your steadfastness, one for a stubborn indentation
of the men in your head, worry not-
there is a fix for things you haven't broken yet

solutions lined up in your head like preschoolers with heavy bags
twine, twigs, tufts of truths, dreams that are conducive to awakenings
to the beating drum lodging in place of your heart
to the rising suns and moons you witness

to the possibility of settled living
to children with eyes wide as the ocean
to smiling so hard the corners of your mouth ache
to speaking about baby-steps and banalities

like they were petals sprouting out of your mouth, woman.