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The Mouth

Read by Kristin Garth

A name he calls you, “all you’re good for,” takes
it half a dozen times then settles for
the rest. Your blacked-out, beaten boyfriend wakes
and waits. His punch, preschool purview, he bore
for years before he met you. Old enough
to exit long ago but doesn’t fight
him even, now, for you — the one that’s tough
yet tiny, tangled flame of hair, eyes light
up with hormones at work for two. A child
who may be made of monster, you can’t say.
A mouth so potent, words that whittle, wild,
soon to sway: “This asshole dies today.”
Two lips abused, insulted, never heard,
the mouth that kills a bully with a word.

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