The mouth
with
too many words is
closing the door.
The lips
clamp shut
but
the tongue races
from roof to floor.
Departures
steadily increase.
Around the jaw,
laws of motion
set sounds
moving south.
The throat,
a drawer
where
more than this
is kept,
opens.
Sound
moving down
unfolds.
Put it on.
Pursue the syllabic.
Unafraid
follow
and fall apart,
below the heart,
into a voice that is yours alone.
