She swallowed his words fast before
the taste: six slithering oysters of words,
every echo she had ever heard 
pinned beneath an echo's claw.  
She could pick them out in the dark:  
words lifting from paper in small chokes 
or trolling through the bend of a cord.  
I never wanted to hurt you. 
It was the last thing he wanted to do 
and the last thing all of them did.




02 jan 02
M Madison