Stringing my words together like garland on the aluminum tree whose lights flicker on and off haphazardly bouncing from silver tin leaf to silver tin leaf. I stammer and push them out with my tongue. until I become my mama's face from the effort. Those words, they push to come out a labor- out into the world, newborn babes. As i sputter and kick them (no graceful exit from me). Yet the lush ones wont leave me, my throat swallows them whole with the smooth roundest effortless bite that they are not. And my tongue recoils, curls between letters- hides in the punctuation rears from the bitter. So I stumble and stammer and quite a fool myself, make. Gulp until I am knotted inside and I leave this foolish talk alone at the bottom of the sea of bile. I leave this talk to stronger folk, or younger folk or kinder souls than me. I shut my face door. Shut it, slam it and leave this talk to better dreamers than me.