the nouns. The sounds can’t
pass his cheeks. High as Alpine
peaks, the air is thin soon
as he begins.

He can’t speak
the truth. It’s a decaying tooth-rotting
in his gums. Even a drill
couldn’t **** out all the tartar
crumbs.

He can’t speak
as his foot’s stuck
in his mouth. Like the swallow,
his song has flown south on wings
that grew sprouts.

He can’t speak
as the cat has his tongue. A feral
mother raised him as her young. Stuck
as a *** of gum under the high school
desk the hardened blob turns grotesque.

He can't speak
as his lips are sewn
with the splinters from all
the winters he has roamed.