Battered Larynx

Ablaze with the victory dance
Of what they call our
‘Repetitive, linear platitudes’
These wires buzz with electric energy
Passing liberal songs like waves of steel
Down crooked lines of monstrous sodomy

Why then, does the silence hold?
Drunken, brazen teeth on breast
Wolfish howling, animal shrieks
Quietly creeping in when you’re asleep
A sip of wine and a vase of flowers
And it’s just a smoothened-over pink scar

Under darkened veil and smudged kohl eyes
The heart remains shrill, the face cool ice
And mockery slides down that raw pink throat
Like a hooked rope meant to hold on tight
Broken straps, shorn hair, torn skirt-
But the battered larynx just won’t form words

Confessions under the hazy freedom
Of courtroom circles, judging eyes, diluted esteem
Are juggled with groping hands on hips and waist
Nipples pressed flat under a deep-cut dress
Turtleneck, flat slippers, nude lips, loose denim
Behind the gloss of midriff-bared virtual uncut dreams

And every single night from that same bedroom floor
There is the sound of lilting melody, its roots sunk in
Under unfulfilled, undeclared, heated crimes of passion
And momentary flicks of gazing, wild ownership
And cheeky comebacks about sexy buttocks and backs
And unflattering undertones echoing, ‘I want some of that’

All of this yelled out on a bright sunny street
And on the other side- just a battered larynx

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