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.
