The craft is a challenge, but those who severed her tongue left her hands intact; in time her fingers self-cripple with bow, brush, needle, nib.
“Talk why don’t you just talk!” they scream with impatient tongues that pummel like fists. Silent, she turns away. A conversation is not a competition. and she is battle sick.
Dexterous and nimble, this is how she speaks: stitched ciphers and threaded testimony type, tone, texture, tension. There are many ways to whisper- this happened and I exist.
Word upon Word 