Close my
mouth, stop
my
voice—it cannot
fulfill
expectation.
Take your
fingers
and hold
my tongue—
it moves
in unholy rhythms.
Halt my
pen, erase
its
ink—it wheels
too
freely.
Unless
I speak
for you,
inhibit
my faculties. Unless
I uncover
a truth, press
to my
lips a hot coal.
Mover of
mountains, I say
move the
mass that
pins me.
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