Untitled | One
Where is your voice?
Buried beneath conformity,
crushed by please and thank you,
suffocated between the dead
letters of words you do not believe?
Is it silenced in the girlish swing
of skirts and flash of teeth,
the distance between your God and desire?
Is it heavy in your tangled head,
decayed around your finger?
Is it hollow in his incessant gaze
swallowing your mouth?
Your voice, woman. your voice.
What will it take to wake it?
What will it take to light it alive,
an ember between bones,
a raging spark? A riot
hurtling through tissue,
yanking at ribs and flesh,
writhing against the sleepy beat of mediocrity
to break the fuck out.