Hold your tongue

“At that word the devil took his time and
whetted her tongue against her teeth; and
when it was well sharpened, she swore to
him in very fierce anger.” – Thomas More

I held my tongue and walked away
and went down, down into the earth
eyes narrow and fists clenched and
went to the fiery forge with the ringing
in my ears and I opened my mouth
and pulled forth my tongue and I held
my tongue and rolled it out and
set it against the anvil and could taste
the years of grime and flinty steel where
men had worked with great labors for ages
and I stretched my tongue and felt the ripping
the jolting agony as it tore away and flat
against the anvil lay like the sole of a brown
shoe and I began to stretch it out and took
in hand the hammer and hefting it
I stood in sweat and shivering
from the pain I paused and prepared
and swung the steel to the soft flesh
and made from my own mouth
my sword and up I stood and sent
my wordless cries writhing to the world
and holding my tongue I walked away,
armed to the teeth and silent.

Vera pax nomine interficiam, dixit Moros.


ca. 2012

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