words in your eyes

I watch my hands recede and ask myself
if I’m dreaming
before the balloons can carry them
all the way to Saturn,
I clap them to my ears to block out
my own howls
(it’s baying, I’m baying)
they are too big and clumsy and
full of holes
and now these receivers on my head
listen to my voice
and my murmurs are full of static
I can only decode if I yell
but I want to stop yelling
I want to whisper joyously
through clenched teeth
while I bend over and present my back,
allowing my soul to be borne.