I've told you of times when mouth was brackish with silence
when uttering a swollen belly felt like a knock on crystal in lieu of wood,
(somewhere a crevasse widens— lips a perfect square of utterance)
I sit by my kitchen's windows, almost supine as July rain
after a storm that has pooled in my indoors—
We scramble to find the mouths that will say
wide like a suden corridor, a faithful reflection
—your words chrysalis in me.