How to Hear a Stutter

Adam Giannelli

Read a micro-conversation with the author here.

Do not say spit it out.
I’m not chewing. I’m humming.

Do not interrupt.
Bask in palpitation.

Do not look away.
The eyes are eloquent.

Do not intercede.
Presumption tapers.

Do not laugh. Nothing
is more human than a tremble.

Do not mimic. The miming of frailty
is the mastering of frailty, and mastery is not frail.

Do not say stop and start again.
A sentence is serendipitous.

Do not interrupt.
I have my own walls already.

Do not say stop and start again.
A word is a stairwell.

Do not hang up.
Make silence your envoy.

Do not ask if I’ve forgotten my name.
A name is not an order. It is an invitation.

Do not intercede. Here is my voice,
made of strain and spittle.

Listen. Here
is my voice, seismic.

Patience.
Here is my nonvoice.

 

Read another poem by Adam Giannelli by purchasing a print or digital copy of the Nov/Dec 2019 issue here.

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