Say it Again

Say it again

 

A curse is on me it seems. I open my mouth to

smooth things out. Instead,  strike me dead, when

I speak, like a joke inflammatory words that I want

to divorce force their way through my lips. When I try

to explain. Terminology I use always paints

a picture I don’t intend.

 

I try to find the nearest neighbors to words I used

and touch up the canvas, but my lexis only adds to the

abstraction of my actions. Temperatures rise above

where they were before I uttered my conciliatory words

 

A tongue transplant is what I need, so I’ll be able

to utter soothing phrases instead of unwanted blazes.

Blaming my tongue for telling lies and any mistakes

is my way of reducing the tightening noose I unwittingly

wrap around my neck.

 

I let my feelings hang loose. and excuse myself from what

I’ve said and think it fair to say, “It’s my tongue that’s at fault,

because the words that it spews manage to inflame and

it shouldn’t be like that

 

 

If I could eat all my words, chew them and spit them

out so they’d spell out my intent in an orderly way,

I’d swallow everything I ever said, and at the closing

of the day, say it again from far away.