i want someone to fill my mouth
with marbles—the opaque kind, with milky

swirls of blue. i’ve spent so long like this—
saying everything to please everybody else—

that i need to start over from a mumble. i have
mouthfuls of shame stopped up inside my gut,

piled like sludge in a barrel, like bile waiting
for my morning coughing fit to escape

through my throat. i used to speak like nothing
could touch me but then it did so i clipped

my tongue, cowering. chameleons grow
back automatically, but it takes me

years. i want my lipstitches torn out
delicately with a pair of forceps. i want

to speak without first asking
with my eyes—what do i say?

nat raum is a queer disabled artist and writer based on unceded Piscataway and Susquehannock land in Baltimore. They’re the editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press and the author of you stupid slut, the abyss is staring back, random access memory, and several others. Find them online at natraum.com.