I could fill rivers that lead into oceans
With the words
I chose not to speak.
The meaning I held back,
Like holding in hiccups,
Came bursting in anyway:
I have let moments of churning
And heaving in my stomach
Be neglected by a driving force to be sheltered,
To be touched
By something other than a poem or pain.
I know when I walk,
I won’t always cast a shadow.
Not everyone looks with their eyes,
But I notice pupils digging into my skin.
I live the life of a dandelion,
Picked up by the wind and carried away,
Thrown into the shifting of a breeze,
Taken by the new words
That I try harder to say.