Plight

she sat there twisted turned
tied in it
underneath some might say she
understood something deeper like the
wax and wane
the ebb and flow
the in betweeness below beneath
the tongue heavy and lulled
the jaw dropped and drooping away
the eyes rolling into themselves
against it all
twisted and tossed
as if lightening struck
as if thunder roared
as if she were pulled and
tugged
in two
tension
the pressure to say and not
a stutter a delayed pulling out of it
the sound became caught
heavy and limp her shoulder forearm
her hand
sagged drugged soppy
sounds spitting spat itself out
it jerked convulsed shook
her til one could not tell
body from reverberation
what was it that made her quake so

the desire to say and not
the pregnant silence she
understood it all for
this space was her earth
she was a seed contained
aching to burst
a bud a petal a rose a sound
some said as long as she stays
quiet and still
so long as excitement doesn't rise
neither will she
some said
no sounds no sounds hush yourself
mechanically
to sleeping
calm yourself to comatose
but she would tick and turn so
rattling nerves and tubes
from back in the throat somewhere
a beating beating to emerge
and sing a Self announce a Self as so
many hurried passed waiting only long enough
to lay wrinkled leones in her hand
as it dissolved and momentarily submerged the rising within her

this time she would dream herself in full bloom
a soft-spoken contradiction
a fecund friction
an evolving self
doused in the sun's honey
her tongue and throat reaching
out to it
passers-by would whisper
what makes her quake so
what lies in this re-opening of scars
in this star-duned silence
in this moon-candy talking
in this designated spread of fire-water

still she sang out inside of her self
pulling out from the throbbing the ache
higher and piercing highest
exploding out of her withered wait
found her petals
she released her sound.