When among others
work to appear 
to be one of them.
I use words others use,

talk like them, write
like them. Do the subtle
bodyspeak, the gestures,
the moves.

When among others
I sing their song cycles
within earshot;
poem their poetry too.

When fucking though?
My own language, my own 
tongue — and no, not when
making love or even having

sex — those are their words,
not mine; no ruined sensibility
of theirs for me. I speak my singular 
rumbletone hard stop when

in the swing of fucking, speak it
with the Other I’m with, coding and
decoding in the moment
of utterance. Tense agreement,

plural touch. Grammar
of switch upon switch
across skins. Private syntax.
All the cipher we can handle.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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