Amy Beeder H

I'll never again be a mute thing,
blank domino or empty pen;

that cipher linguists snub, a breath
divorced from cords, from tongue

& lips; never be that aspirate that
shunts aside for every other sign,

dull & docile in the gob's hull.
I'll never again put off gutteral robes

to don a white & quiet shift
some faded garment blameless since

submissive to the vowel—oh, ah
not for any dawn or dark hem lifted

not for your hush hush in a brief house
nor for the air shaking between us.


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