I hear that soft underbelly of a voice and I’m staring at you. I hear it in my asl teacher, my therapist, my sister. That biting of the tongue-that swallowing of teeth- that choking of spit that is not really choking, swallowing, or biting at all. It’s in the mauling from a dog that has never felt kibble or polyester or water from flimsy plastic. I heard it sometimes when we still talked and I couldn’t decided if I liked it or not. But when we talked yesterday, you spoke only in that voice. And rabies is infectious but rabies as a metaphor is your open underbelly opened in a C section because I’m trying to find something living in you but you’re already gone and I haven’t seen your face in a year and I don’t know what colors are on my hands but what I do feel when I press my palms to my eyes is softness.
(Featured image from Pexels)
English