Voice

Little voice,

come on out.

I hear you hiding in the upstage.

I found you lost, long ago,

but you decided to put on a robe and go.


Little voice,

Eating in a corner,

Writing in a circle,

Where did you leave your pencil and jingoisms?

I found them on the wall, smudged and stenciled out,

like pearly white teeth with thousands of crossed-over braces.


Little voice,

How does your garden grow,

with empty shells and puppy dog snippets,

all in a row.


Little voice,

Did you lose your way

through oracles

and jagged tusks,

leaving behind

scraps of yourself?


Little voice,

How do you do now,

In your cloistered holster

with blushing droplets

of ocean air?