The Silent Treatment
by James Eidson
My words
clods in my pocket
I wade
in the rising tub
the razor
the mirror
the soap
strips the speech off my tongue
the road from my throat
of accidents
I mouth horses I strike
continue to bray
to spill
the cliffs
my lips
all my thoughts rot on the tip
of my tongue
what is spoken
in contexts
I don’t create
James Eidson is an MFA candidate at Columbia College Chicago. His work has appeared in Columbia Poetry Review, The North Texan, and No Glykon. He lives on the east-side with his Chihuahua, Huysmans.
