scalawag

that old toad in my throat
sounds like death. he lies
in my windpipe and logs
luegen auf die lippen. that is,
i am generally a klutz when it comes
to keeping my mouth shut; a block
of wood hangs off the tip
of my tongue. i try for active
silence, but i know he is in there,
waiting to call out. toady,
you are the last.

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Copyright © 2011 Uljana Wolf, Ute Schwartz All rights reserved
from Telephone
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