am i pen?
no- a voice somewhere hidden,
sadly buried.
i stumble through disabled doors
because i am.
i speak only to paper
i'm sleeping with a pen.
you do not hear this voice;
it has neither mouth nor tongue.
a crippled pin-pricked mute i lay-
disfigured, impaired.
am i paper?
am i pen?
no- a voice somewhere hidden,
sadly buried.
my typewriter and i
are engaged to be married.
this is the language of isolation.
can you hear me? © 2009 Hester O'Donnell (don't mess with my muse.)