tweezers raze she lost her cat voice from worry and overuse. now when she calls her cat the cat pretends not to hear her. she sees language as something deeper than words. she is a ribbon stressed and possessed by thumb-driven forceps. she is younger than the stairs she's sitting on. she is every bed that has hidden and harboured her hopes and hurts, in houses and hospitals, in apartments and rented rooms. she is no one you or i will ever know. 241015 what's it to you? who go blather from