tracheotomy

the quiet roar of whisky
in the mouth,
swallowed, repressed,
folded into the stomach.

the billiards
hurling into one another
violently -
they sound like teeth,
colliding after a blow
to the jaw.

i wired my jaw shut
and nodded mechanically.
i felt gears rusting
inside of me, their
once-hearty movement
jarred, hiccuping.

i handed you the scalpel
and grimly motioned
to my chest -
where my heart
had been punishing
the inside of my ribcage,
where my skin was livid
from the
repeated pummeling

you nodded,
took another shot,
and crouched down
to make the incision,
but a ripple of anxiety
sloshed in my eyes
& you noticed.

you shook your head.
disappointment's powerful odor
filled the room,
and i limped out of the bar
right into the street
and turned west, following
a yellow line
& its doppelganger.

years later,
the snicker of whisky,
the clutch of loss,
and a gasping hole
in my throat
where the words i didn't say
burst out of me
and hit the sidewalk
with a sickening slap.