There are some days when “us” falls out of my mouth,
heavy and hearty, throat opened fully
to expel an airy hope for the future,
instead of “I”, which begins similarly
and ends with the back of my tongue surging upwards
to stop the air flowing outwards,
closing my throat off to widen the sound.

“Us”, with guttural UH,
rooted firmly in my chest, its silky S
finishing off strong, hissing
like sea foam
washed up on the sand
shortly after softened waves slink back
from the shore.

“I”, with its AH like a sigh of
relief at the freedom of singularity,
its ending EE like the creak in the floorboards
when I’m home alone,
like the squeaky back door
that no longer calls out to me
as a precursor to your footsteps
on the kitchen floor.

I correct myself. “I”.