Wednesday 29 October 2014

Screech

go dumb, i plead
but my mouth screeches on

to his obvious
shock

cracking his ego
chip by chip-

now sticky eggshells
lie all over
the sink

my voice so new
sinks into a gulp

and births a squeal
like the one you hear at
slaughterhouses

he questions my discipline
and decorum too
searching, i find them

gone with my
long-wed silence

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