When I Am Quiet
When I laugh, I mean it. Loud and from my belly. Throw my head back, shake my hair and even show the generous gap between my two front teeth.
It is when I am quiet that it is time to pay attention. When I am quiet something big is about to happen.
When I am quiet I am concentrating. When I am quiet I am going to climax.
When I am quiet I love you too powerful to speak. When I am quiet I am going to take off your pants and change your life.
When I am quiet I am remembering what I have hidden at the tops of the closets and deciding how best to pack them.
When I am quiet I am trying not to cry. When I am quiet I am going to leave.
When I am quiet I am holding my tongue curling my fist 'round it tracing my fingers along the tip wanting to throw it wanting to hide it wanting to swallow it.
I have words. Many, many words. I have tongue and teeth and lips.
I keep a hurricane in my throat.
When I am quiet,
when the eerie silence fills the room when the air is a wool coat, wet and heavy
when your body is an electrical fire when your body is geometry dismembered
when everything about me is piercing and present when everything I feel is too big to fit into my mouth,
when I am quiet something big is about to happen.