When my vocal cords snapped
I restrung them with bubble gum. Thus
trussed, they purl gibberish into my breath.
My tongue wrestles the gibbery gobs
in gristly bouts, all slap and grapple
and spittle-drenched.
But the phonic knots fudge logic
and sweet talk my adjudicating neurons.
They eschew the nip of my nit-picking
teeth and split my finicky lips.
Off they scarper, to waffle on the wind
or butter up the nearest ear hole.
I liberate them, even the fomenters
especially the fomenters.
Under the influence of bubble gum,
under the sway, these foamy phrases
must be what I mean to say.
Gumfire
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