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By Elizabeth Meade

Sometimes, m’s elongate,
grow long tongues to taste the last bit 
of breath my body has to offer.


Sometimes, i’s echo 
like the harsh cries of a seagull, 
try to fly far away from the nest of my mouth
only to circle the ocean of my uncompleted sentence.


Sometimes, my breath becomes caught
in the chamber of my throat, my head cocked back 
until the word —at last— launches out of my mouth like a bullet. 
or a punch.


(Sometimes, my soft, raspy voice 
provides no balm to soothe the ear.)


Sometimes, I remember Daddy said my voice  
sounds like Mommy’s. I rejoice then, as syllables
trip over one another like eager children 
rushing toward the playground 
with all the freedom her voice no longer has.


All that remains is the deep ache in my throat, 
vocal cords like mud stomped flat 
under the feet of my rowdy utterances.


Elizabeth Meade, "When I Stutter" from In Between Spaces: An Anthology of Disabled Writers. Copyright © 2022 by Elizabeth Meade.  Reprinted by permission of Elizabeth Meade.

Source: In Between Spaces: An Anthology of Disabled Writers (Stillhouse Press, 2022)

  • Living

Poet Bio

Elizabeth Meade
Elizabeth Meade is a lesbian poet with cerebral palsy who lives in Asheville, North Carolina. Born at 22.5 weeks and weighing just 1.1 pounds, the odds she would survive were poor. This miracle inspires her enthusiastic exploration of life, immense gratitude, and compassionate heart. Her poems have appeared in the magazines Kaleidoscope and The Laurel of Asheville as well as In Between Spaces: An Anthology of Disabled Writers. See More By This Poet

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