I’m a grieving thing
monsters shushing stars
under my tongue.

I’d rather just be silent
but my silence screams for audience
and calls the Monster’s war.

Stars surrender
hide in vocal folds
slide all the way down back…
escape.

Sometimes, I am funny.
Grief is not funny.
Monsters shushing
stars protecting grief
are sometimes funny.

It’s a balancing act.

I’m no good on the tight rope.

Put your sunglasses on
before I open my mouth.