My spider’s web throat catches another,
another word wriggling in its wire,
enticed by the promise of light,
of fresh air and recognition.
Met only by cold death
as it plucks at its confinements,
like the worn violin strings
of its erratic final refrain.
I swallow hard,
I draw single a calloused finger to my neck,
I cough, and with it follow dutifully,
syllables and letters, spilling from my lips.
I cover my mouth
as they fall in cascades to the floor,
through my weary digits.
They are lost and I am desperate.
Somebody hear me, please.