a poem

my lips bleed
droplets of red
as the threads strain to be freed

the Words dance on my tongue
rising up the back of my throat
like bile
yearning for air
my stomach churns

I attempt to chew
these stringsofjumbledwords
perhaps l e t t e r s are
easier to swallow
commas, dashes - periods.

but They want out
tearing at these
stitches

I am not ready!

my thoughts have not
coagulated
my speech, incoherent

my lips tear
eyes smarting as
my teeth clench in defiance

but They creep around
the edges, in between the gaps

Braces, you have not done
your job
five-thousand down the drain

That’s good hard American cash, boys!

so They spill forth
crimson and shining
proud

silent
paper exultations

Look at what We have done!