Chewing Chalk Copyright © Katie Bonna 2011

You said that my words burnt,
That you watched them
Branding your chunky knitwear,
Your Snickers bar,
Blending plastic into chocolate
As if it was designed
To be there.
You said I needed
To stand away from your face
In case the newly developed
Splash on my Ts,
Would mash up your mouth
Full of perfect white teeth,
And you asked me not to write things down,
Because the setting in ink
Would sink into
Your blood
And poisoning would follow,
And then you’d die a tragic
Jaundiced death,
And I might die of sorrow.
And I hoped that we might
Break the tryst
And that you might sneak me notes,
And that the chest pains
I was experiencing
Weren’t a result of being
Emotionally choked
But now I can’t write about you.
Can’t speak.
I blanket compliments in
Dust sheets,
To catch the chipped plaster
Falling freely
As we chisel new definition
Into each other’s bodies,
And wrap warning tape
Around words
That have the appearance of intimacy,
That seem to be
What you think they shouldn’t be.
You said my words burnt,
So I learned to swallow
Them with ice-cubes
To numb my scorched throat,
And coat my stomach
With milk.
But your words are like silk to me;
They piece by piece themselves
Into such perfect thoughts
That I find myself
Willing them to bind themselves to me,
To find crevices to hide themselves in me,
To side with me
So I can start to trace
Your forceful articulation’s
Complex family tree
Back to its roots.
And every question that you ask
Is worth ten of anybody else’s
Answers.
And I wish myself into a
Molecule of air just to be
Inhaled and impaled by your lungs’
Gas exchange
And forced through bronchi
And vibrated through your voice-box,
Just to be intoxicatingly reformed as
One syllable of your thoughts.
But my thoughts torch your skin
And test you ‘til your balance wavers,
Like a toddler chewing chalk.