By AJ Urquidi
I let you borrowmy voiceand this is howyou treat it?Lost—misplaced— a revenge opera closed-
captioned, silentbut deadly.Thought I heardit on a billboard,now too fainta sound to recall.
Our needlesno longerin the groove,the new noiseis more entertaining.Anything I say can
and will be usedin your mouth.Our callouses make melaugh because no one
taught me howto behave. I’ll work
it out, jog at dawn inmy blasphemyjacket. I see ithovers yet at thirtythousand feet.I’ll have to remind myself
to find my wordsby Wednesday.Thought I heardthem in the microwave—now too they are moldsof jell-o draped in ventriloquist’s cloaks.
Originally published in Remedial Art Class #5.