mute — from Dutch smelten to melt, make fluid


My words are glass and mirrors in your presence.


Might they fall in love — with not speaking?

Hiding words away

in desks

under chairs

behind doors

in classrooms

until they are broken?


Raw words



Drip, bloody

through cupped hands.


And boundaries?

Mine are air and mist


You assume

And inhabit them

Without permission

Set up your structures



I speak

breaking up like radio interference

into white noise.






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