fork swallowing contest

i challenge myself,
laying my implements
on the counter. outside, the snow
is just starting to blush
& a man shovels a tunnel
from his doorstep
to his lovers. a whisper
lingers outside my window.
fork between teeth. i ask
"am i?" the forks tune the air,
ready to sing. 
all the thumb tacs 
hold my apartment's shoulders back.
no one knows my favorite sound
& it's a secret
i want desperately to admit.
the forks coil & uncoil.
little creatures. my throat
is dense & planetary. i used to believe
in garbage disposals & 
composting my tongue. i wanted
the limb to come back
green & soft. the back yard
spits a spoon at the window
each night as a reminder
to eat again in the morning.
i'm no sick of forks though.
their fingers reaching & their necks
so thinned from nodding.
alarms are a kind of angel.
first fork goes down easy
but second scrapes a long gash
in my throat. i peel open
& in comes the dust.
no matter how hard i try
my house is always 
brimming with dust. i wake up
with a layer on my forehead.
in a future life i'd like
to just be a bookshelf 
or a cutlery drawer. get rid
of all my pink parts.
last fork is easy since
i'm already split open.
just set teeth inside teeth.
no more forks. free of forks.
in bed i feel a sliver of peace
even if the forks will just
come out my mouth at night
as dragonflies. what i would do 
for a radio or a gas lamp.
how do you know 
your done chewing? 
the metal lilts. i am 
just a box. a bird stands
upside down. sings
a knife through the air
where it lodges in the far wall.
i say, "thank you"
so the animal will leave me
to my thought gazing.
i hum & the forks hum too. 

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