Hold your tongue between your teeth
every time you hear the slightest
slight, each night you feel unwanted
touches from unhaunted spaces, each
apology ringing more hollow than bone
burning like shame smeared across
your face, a handprint made by hands
that should know how to love
but don’t. Sip a second cup of fear,
hear your heartbeat breaking
the silence, swallow the words
until violence becomes and begins
and breathe until flames consume
the rage and the pain and the shame
and the shattered remnants of hate too great
to hold between your very sharp, broken teeth.
This Is How You Breathe Fire
The fine last line changes the framing, from the first,
between fear, violation, breakage,
the shattered remnants of hate, until flames consume.
What else would the author do?
Beauty of concision.
But….Dont.
My published writing is about institutions and those they fail to protect.
Let me know if you like me to share the work.
Eric Jason Silverman