I know I say too many words
with far too many question marks
I save up my stories
and then burst at the seams
in run on sentences
(interrupted by parenthetical phrases)
my eyes glitter
as I speak of book characters
like they’re real people
unable to contain my excitement
relaying their life story in such a way
that the lilt in my voice
gives away the ending
(and though you doubt their existence)
my tongue is scarred
with permanent bite marks
a mythological symbol of a quiet
that you’ll never see
I write this poem
a brief reprieve
from my rambling tongue
to say two words
(admittedly preceded
by a meandering introduction)
thank you.
December 3, 2o20
