My Mouth Beneath the Hand

It was you

giving me voice

on nights so aphotic…

nights when even

the moon sidestepped

behind the dust of a cloud…

awakening to my lips

awkwardly pressed

against my teeth

beneath his hand

and then my own


and then




only for me

all mine


speaking all the way

past the extravagant shame


written words rubbed raw

with my pain


speaking with no regard for

the rules of his game…

would have seen me

hung between swinging sheets

tossed across a lace balcony

swaying against the

glowing moans of a

stunned quarter-moon

my foot naked

sighing clues

in the water below…

why water?

there’s always water

it follows me…

but I couldn’t be pushed…

so instead I skip

along the balcony rails

swimmingly on tiptoe

Heaven’s breath siring the sheets

to new life all around me

I hear my name

in the silence resting

between the rustles…

the calypso waves of

water clapping below

shouting new words to

every step I land

against the waiting iron

ever waiting…

did I really ever doubt?…

gone is the hand across my mouth

when I awake

gone is the silencer to my voice


and then


I lay my heart on a word

and it lifts me away

I brush against the moon

as I sail by

and I laugh

because it tickles…

tickles my very soul


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