Aerie InternationaL - Missoula County Public Schools

kelsie corriston
ho-ho-kus, new jersey, usa
SPeeCh
When I was a child I lost
my r’s, th’s, sh’s,
and so my tongue hung
loose inside, as I spoke too fast
in a British accent –
or so they told me –
and walked the halls
with lips that would laugh
but not speak or sew sounds–
and so I molded my tongue,
tight into a boat,
the way I’d squeeze my fists
to catch the R-AIN off my hair,
in TH-E SH-OWE-R
in which I scrubbed off the DI-R-T,
because I couldn’t pronounce it
or count the days that passed
like SH-EEP
as flashcards whipped
and tore me from first grade math
to play a game of Chutes and Ladders,
neither of which I could say
and not spray,
or even say at all –
say car, say race, say the, say them, say they
who I make crave to lack what I lost
on the roof of my mouth, in the hole in my tongue,
in between my loose lips
that they say couldn’t keep a secret,
but what could I tell
with no verbal coordination
to SH-A-R-E a R-UMO-R
but what if I could, what if the tale
I heard could be spun
without the forbidden consonants –
if you were allergic to strawberries,
and left alone,
would you squeeze the squishy juice
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