I will silence you:
implications of what it means to be,
of letting sound fall accidentally from my lips,
of inhabiting a home that is not my own.
But if I can't, and I probably won't,
then the lapping of silk at my ankles,
the firm exhalation of the chambers in my chest,
and the burning sensation of smiling too wide
will be the the tokens of living I wear,
not around my neck,
but swallowed without pride
that are to rest eternally,
never being fully digested.