They Say

You learned to open your mouth just a little
The steps follow you
You take their words into your loom
And weave the static into knots
And you open your mouth just a little
Even as they expect you to pout
Lips lather the tripping toads
That follow you croaking their words
You take those murmurs into your womb
And grow the knots that eventually spill out
Open your mouth just a little woman
There’s nothing you can offer
Everything has been made
No one needs your meddling.

Woman is Alive

Who will accept this entirely?
a receptacle of flesh in flesh
a constant deterioration and reparation
to serve, to nurture, to then give up
a mouth a fountain to drown in
or for someone to swim in
until they tire of your nagging
which is your hands pleading
to be seen, to be heard, to be understood
who will accept this willingly?