Sticks and stones may break my bones

but words will always hide me.

Letters interlocking in long chains,

linking, binding, sequestering away,

Dripping down the body like strings of slick pearls

Sliding off thin shoulders only to close around brittle ribs

obscuring one’s face and nose and eyes but leaving lips unfettered,

Concealing the thin red lines that life has seared with feathered fingers,

paper thin.

A paper vessel

is what one’s body is,

writing down for all the world to see,

making visible what would rather be left unsaid.

The words that refuse to spill from my mouth like ruby drops

the ones that won’t grant me asylum from myself

are made permanent.

But most obey me, are wrestled into chain link sentences

that fend off knife-tipped questions.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Words combat the silence with an unforgiving wall of sound,

a wall so strong and unceasing that any wayward thoughts are banished.

Lies are strongest, made of steel

unlike the weak meaningless syllables of soft, thin gold

that serve only to ensnare you in a spider’s web.

Even a brief pause might betray one’s true intentions.

A small gasp,

twitching of the lips,

eyes drifting for only a moment.

The absence of words reveals a great wealth of information.

Silence dissolves the carefully crafted mask

leaving one’s face exposed,

uncovers the cracks in the cheekbones,

the spark of uncertainty that flashes in the iris.

And then as you struggle to explain, defend

The questions may win.