Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Poem #12 Thirty Poems in Thirty Days

Words Without Vowels

I couldn’t translate them into sound,
they grew tentacles.
Unable to move beyond my throat,
I opened and closed my mouth.

The blue dentist chair reclined flat
while an overhead light illuminated
each line, each imperfection.
The Novocain injected into my cheek
numbed for hours,
slurring words, chopping off endings.

I tried to pronounce words
without a lexicon
and lost my way.

Linda © 2009
NaPoWriMo: 30 Poems in 30 days.

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