reading out loud

                      the page contains a thousand

                        throats, each epiglottis a
                                                            name –

                                 many names, no one

                      can name them all


           skimming through the teeth
                                             or in between them

                      silent
                  in a way that shuts out

                       the
                           world of tongues,
                                            letters, spaces,


               all except my lower needs, my


                      losses, my afterwards.


                              oh,
                  and the aggression of a littered page

                    that never lets

                       me pause


           to hear myself. i have to read the words out

                         loud

                                 to hear them.