in my eyelids, there are metaphors of

the way life  used to be

a subdued way of interpreting

the wrong from the acceptable—

it’s easy to judge, but it’s easier to imagine

what we can get away with—

it is savagery, the way we inhale

the trickle of fear that bites its nails

stung and swollen

I am tongue reverberating

and speech of freedom lost—

when I set myself free, I

am comfort of body and my smile swallows me. I 

want my laughter to carry out the shipwreck 

of all the carnivals I missed.