Carol J. Forrester

Have I got the stomach for this?
Probably not.
My gut sits in coils around my torso— squeezing
each time I draw a breath too deep.
There is a trapdoor in my throat which snaps shut,
nerves hammer home like nails,
it becomes the entrance to a fortress, rivetted with iron,
confidence turning to smoke in my mouth,
the tongue behind my teeth is charcoal crumbling.
Every word comes out broken, hissing,
someone s