Anathemas

Quieting my
breathing until
it can slip past words
longing to leave me

so it may sustain me
through the fire of
wanting to speak
but not trusting myself

to say things 
softly or with precision
Slowing my heart rate
until it is no louder

than thoughts
of righteous outbursts
terrifying self-exposures
infamous last war cries

My best work
is destined to remain 
imaginary because 
to put it out there would be

to proclaim anathemas
intended to be seductions
and watching
the world recoil