Two seconds for three years if I speak out and stay in.
cold wiring up my back, tickling at the truth,
daring to speak the words I lost last week.
Things I forgot, thoughts I pushed down.
Cut to the point- it’s a wiretap consideration.
Breathing seems heavy when the brassy cable
provokes each phrase. The time to travel from
my heart to my throat makes this game of
telephone quite contrary- did you hear me yet?
Did you hear me right?
Does it matter if you did?