It Snow Matter

like many children do
while they are still soft headed and tender,
I once watched the world from my wet-toothless mouth
and lovingly slobbered the sensory beauty of all new things,
while tracing contours with my curious tongue
and probing names into walls.

Before I was taught the correct routes to seek knowledge,
I drunkenly learned, this way,
how the world is shaped.
But, in my unappeasable gigantic appetite for new wonders,
I blindly swallowed whole
something larger still than I exist
and, at too young of an age, got it violently stuck
in between my lungs and my throat. Now I choke
on my attempts to cough out simple truths and
have adopted meditation instead of saying anything,;
honesty
is more than I can chew.

Before they break surface,
the silk web you can see starting right
behind my tongue
catches full sentences and slows their forced movement
to the deliberate desperation of the last drop of tooth paste in a
four person bathroom. I
gasp through straws pointed straight at the sky
for the strength to say more than my silent internal can imply. Maybe I
am both the eye and the storm.

If that is indeed possible.
If not
why can’t I get this thunder out?

It snow matter.
Just the bellowing beneath me,
before I learn to speak.

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3 thoughts on “It Snow Matter

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