What's wrong with your voice?

i took scissors to
radio tongues--
opened my mouth wide
enough to swallow the 
record player--
the disk 
skip skip skips
in my throat
i open-- i unhindge
my jaw wide enough
to let out
the calls of 
hundreds of birds--
there's the whistle
of the black-capped
chickadee--
the trill of the pine
warbler--
the wail of 
the common loon--
an uncontrollable
laughter falls 
out on the carpet
in a burst of black
speckled feathers
i'm homesick for a voice
alone in my room
i sing the one song i 
know in italian
i remember my voice
teacher telling me
to throw the high notes
out the top of my head
through the ceiling--
they always got
tangled-- beak & claw
thrashing-- smack against
the ceiling fan--
i sing italian words--
i sing them wrong--
they get knotted 
on the ladder rungs of
my throat--
Spesso vibra per suo gioco
Spesso vibra per suo gioco
i don't translate--
i make up a meaning for
the song--
i say this
song is about a dead lover 
& my voice teacher
says
that not every song
is about dying 
but i think it is--
especially if it's in
italian--
i practice over
& over sitting here--
throwing my voice
at the ceiling
until there's none of
it left
i open my mouth 
& speak static &
gravel
i cut out newspaper
headlines--
swallow them
i'm making a paper machete
voice 
i've been your
ventriloquist-- i've
song soprano & 
followed along
in a hymnal-- i 
sing
ave ave ave 
maria--
maria give me
the call of a magpie
if i can't sing
away my tongue--
i'll take the scissors
to it--
snip out my teeth--
my tongue piece by piece--
plant them in the back yard
& wait with my mouth closed
& filling with feathers--
red blood feathers--
i'm waiting for my
teeth 
to grow trees & in
the trees i'll spend my
day catching birds &
asking them to chirp
to warble to sing
to thrash-- spit 
their words
into the back of 
my mouth
what's wrong with my voice?
it's in assembly--
piece by piece 
i'm building
radio tongue--
bird call
i break through
the ceiling