Hanging on a wall 
in the backyard shed
words rusting 
like
tools no one will use

Discarded 
like
plastic-wrapped fruits
fifty percent off produce
still, contamination spreads
as does ... mould on bread
are some things really 
better left unsaid

Listening to Hall
while sowing Oates
encouraged to speak
but I remain mute 
story of my childhood
knowing what I would say
could maybe 
or should
this uncertainty
has travelled with me
into adulthood

Wanting 
to be understood 
but unsaid
these words ...
they do me no good
they cannot seduce
they're stale
like 
day-old donuts 
put out for sale 

What are 
my words worth 
if they remain inert
or indigestible
possibly detestable
but with that said ...

Please
don't leave me 
unread