Speak
I welcome words
gently laid down
or thrown at me from across the table.
I pick them up off the ground,
pull them from my face,
scoop them onto my plate.
I put them in my mouth
chew them around
salty, slimy, loud, harsh
words I like to spit back out,
push around, cut open.
I mix them with my own words,
slirp up the juicy,
wash down the bitter.
I take out insult and opposition
on my plate I thank them
for their bounty then toss them away.
I do not like them
but I welcome them.
I welcome all words.
I'd rather words hit me in the face from across the table
than sit listening to silence.
