renunciation
it was night when her tongue

became a plant, grew out of

itself in fronds, presented buds, made

stems of language into shade
it had played long enough with potentials, waited

compliant in its cave of vows of constraint, but

the waters it sat in were thick with the heavy chemistry

of these things, it wanted to cry out, find a company

of ears, dance with those winds of voice

trained for silence 
it talked in her sleep, told the quiet

room this was not the place for her, not the right kind

of ears here, when something alighted, sipped nectar

it became a plant, unconcerned with crooked

channels of silence, finding its veins flowing from a

different source, girdle torn open, binding fallen

away, window something to pour through
as plant it chooses to be more tender, relinquish

questions of voice and expression, to wait, partake

only of cooling tendencies, of sweetness
this is how she gave up trying to breathe under pressure, see

behind walls, walk blindfolded, by a kind of lucid

sensuality, by reaching anyway