Jane
a million words inscribed
inside Jane’s head
imbecilities, wisdoms
the bizarre, the mundane
lines that could cover
an earthenware bowl
highlight grace, beauty
instil serenity
but these words won’t emerge
they catch in her throat like dry toast
choke her, steal her breath
drink the moisture from her tongue
until it swells and clamps her jaw
and when they ask her
why don’t you talk, why don’t you say how you feel
she has no answer -
her shoulders squeeze a shrug
her eyes hunt for escape
and she yearns to spread her words
from top to centre in calm curves
light settling upon them