If tongues were braver than brains,
mine would telegraph the words that boil in the stem
with clicking code on the backs of my teeth,
and you would smile because the sounds
are souls made meat for deglutition.
I’d say the things that let you know I know you,
(that I swallowed you one night while you slept,
and like Jonah, you’ve been living here inside
me, both quiet and content).
But something stops at synapse.
I languish, try to smile.
Let eyebrows and irises perfume the air
with all that’s steaming, this whistling tea kettle
between these ears where you are tucking my hair.
So know that if I could, I’d telescope
my way into your throat, my dragging feet
a delicacy, something savory to say
I’ve lived in you, too,
since I met you, all along.