Ankles crossed, pale skin
brushing with knee-high goosebumps
sloughing through the red tape
inspired by touch
groping with words to explain
guttural grips on grievance.
I take a chance
and delete a brash statement
from my mouth
only to find the words
had neutralized before I uttered
a syllable.
Whispered fragments of words
fabled by my lobbyists
these well-meaning tusks
that drop the bag of eggs
and then the giant ball
at my feet
forcing my ankles to unlock
forcing a wrapping of red tape around
my neck, squeezing my throat
until the silence permeates my larynx
and my guttural grip
becomes gasping shouts of desperate pleas
Pleasing the lobbyists
who stand back and admire their handiwork
their chests gleaming with an ‘S’,
their signal scraping the sky
showing how they saved their city,
they wrapped up the monster, defeated the villain
kept the world safe
from me.
And I lay on the floor, strangled
puffs of breath leaving my lips
my legs wide open and my eyes closed.
One day it won’t be the first thing you see.
The Birds and the Fleas 