Swallow

They call them Silvertongues With a sickly, feeble lion throats She speaks a language known best by politicians and advertisements A language that only dear friends detect when she speaks with her Silvertongue When she speaks her Silvertongue her taste buds into evergreens coated with snowflakes, all indistict and conformed Each word rings up telephone cables into coils, coiling each words like a ritual The Silvertongues They walk in sevens, with each heel, ball, toe blanketing the gravitational pull that decides how much effort it takes to hold them down decided in pounds And they live this hollow way Like a practiced performance on a stage We've all known a Silvertongue, maybe two, We talk with them about workout routines, push the same elevator buttons as them, and sit next to them in the cinemas but they speak so fluently Their invisibility makes them invincible soldiers on the crusade to perfection A silvertongue's storytelling mind determines of what the lion's throat swallows and what it does not For the jurisdiction enforced by the scale in my laundry room, given icon into the mirrors, are more cruel than pirating a child from their mother or hearing the words "Would you like fries with that?" For swallows are like those with iron wings, that lay heavy in the stomach's cradle, no longer a bird, but a burden a miscarriage, a binge Silvertongues walk in sevens, run in miles, and breathe in fours First thing in the break of dawn, reading the brail of beige carpet floors, with her glass toes, pacing forward until reaching the reflection As if the shirt were the applied bandage She removes it, to see if the wound healed overnight The food she didn't eat last night somehow pillowing her hipbones The miles she ran kept running without taking her thighs with her Silvertongues wish to recreate jigsaw effigies of themselves comprised of nothing authentically grown Or rather, shrunk Still, a silvertongue's words are not that of defeat Her words are not payments to the treaty paid towards society, The Social Contract between women and their unspoken vow to be the most beautiful they can be towards the liars in their heads, they dust over their realities Silvertongues speak of lies, but when they speak it's a battle cry.