Suture
By Megan Cartwright
There is not enough range
in the hinge of my jaw
for words to claw their way out.
There is not enough range,
gagged, my throat inflamed,
no way to force fingers down
to claw the words out.
Vowels rise like bile,
swell in gaps, snapped short.
There is not enough space
for syllables to slip through,
my smothered sermons, impotent,
cannot claw their way out.
My mouth is a suture,
lips zipped, a wound stitched,
speech made strange.
There is not enough range—
mine the seam for my shouts.
No words claw their way out.
Megan Cartwright (she/her) is an Australian college teacher and writer. Her poetry has recently appeared in Gnashing Teeth’s “Hallowscream” feature, the UK’s SINK magazine, and CV2’s “The Addiction Issue.”