unlanguaging 

i cut my tongue out with 
the pairing knife & plant it in the dirt
beside where the dead quails are buried.
you are angry again & i don't know
how to stop being a child. 
water my tongue with nectar & broth.
you tell me, "you are always thinking
in extremes." i know you'll be furious
when you see i cut out my tongue again.
the last time i did i mailed it to the government,
wrapped like a butcher cut. 
if i could knit a language
from the ground up, i would get rid
of pronouns all together. no no this
has nothing to do with gender but with
how we refer to one another
without touch or time. maybe instead
of "we" we would point to our teeth. 
instead of "i," a handful of wild onions. 
i imagine our new arguments. 
the smell of onions. teeth shining
in the lamp light. after pronouns i would
undo all the words for, "meat" & 
"love." no more, "i love you." mountains
i would take you to. the words in the air
like moths. i open my mouth
to show you the damage. you are not
as furious as i thought you'd be. 
you run a finger across my teeth
as if they are a piano. as always, 
i play for you. the fireflies speak in their
light switch talk. for the first time i hear
what they're saying. "are you there?"
"are you there?" "are you there?"