I’d like to bite through my tongue.
I’d like to see what it feels like
to bite
through my tongue.
I’d like to see
if it swells if I bite
through my tongue, if my teeth
are sharp enough
to split muscle down
the middle, I’d like to
bite through my
tongue. I want to
taste iron, see I’m
teeming with mutated
beta chains; all this inherited
deficiency. If it walks like a duck and it
quacks like a duck. Perhaps, I can proffer
myself the requisite nutrients
to thrive if I bite
through my tongue. I am nauseated
and my eyelid is twitching, this happens
more and more. Call it
a tick. An itch. A scream.
Today, I looked up
“how to reset the nervous system.”
I moved to check the card catalogue.
No one mentioned that those
have gone extinct.
My mother keeps one
as a coffee table. Perhaps,
there is a restart button on the bottom
of the tongue. I’d like to
begin again. I’d like to donate
the ability to speak. It hasn’t done much
for me, aside from render compliance
mandatory. If I am nothing
but gums, though, then
does the attic open? Does it come
with an oversized armchair? How about
a lamp? Warm light? There’s no talking
in the library. I tried to ask the cat first,
and then a loose thread on a sweater sleeve
(I didn’t have
a friend left to call, and my daddy, well
he died quite a long time ago)—
Anyway, neither answered.
Anyway, this is a riddle,
and it goes something like this:
hush, little baby.
don’t say a word.
Mama’s gonna—
Smile, now, and a mouth filled, wet.
Metallic. Strong teeth. Red grin.