30 Poems in 30 Days: A Dormant Muscle (2/30)
2 June 2007
A Dormant Muscle
by Daniel R Stout
My throat burns with a hundred
unasked questions.
My mouth is mute before a hundred
and one strangers.
Two hundred words I could speak
right now
if my tongue would loosen
itself from shackles.
I am dying to speak.
I am haunted by the words that
come stillborn like a baby
frozen by death’s clutch.
I want communication
I want the flow on my lips
spewing and churning
until word after word
I start to make sense
and I see the smile in the eyes
of those who listen.
This frigidness of the orifice
envelops my soul in a cold
detachment that spreads
through my limbs causing
a stiffness that people sense
and repulse.
This muscle lies dormant
behind my teeth
and I wish to God
that I could make it move.
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