"Given to Rust" by Vievee Francis

[View this email on a browser]( [Forward to a friend]( [facebook-icon]( [tumblr-icon]( [twitter-icon]( November 17, 2017 [Given to Rust]( [Vievee Francis]( Every time I open my mouth my teeth reveal more than I mean to. I can’t stop tonguing them, my teeth. Almost giddy to know they’re still there (my mother lost hers) but I am embarrassed nonetheless that even they aren’t pretty. Still, I did once like my voice, the way it moved through the gap in my teeth like birdsong in the morning, like the slow swirl of a creek at dusk. Just yesterday a woman closed her eyes as I read aloud, and said she wanted to sleep in the sound of it, my voice. I can still sing some. Early cancer didn’t stop the compulsion to sing but there’s gravel now. An undercurrent that also reveals me. Time and disaster. A heavy landslide down the mountain. When you stopped speaking to me what you really wanted was for me to stop speaking to you. To stifle the sound of my voice. I know. Didn’t want the quicksilver of it in your ear. What does it mean to silence another? It means I ruminate on the hit of rain against the tin roof of childhood, how I could listen all day until the water rusted its way in. And there I was putting a pan over here and a pot over there to catch it. [Like this on Facebook]( [Share via Twitter]( Copyright © 2017 Vievee Francis. Used with permission of the author. [illustration]( About This Poem “There are few things worse than being silenced, than having one’s voice stifled. In my twenties I lost my singing voice to cancer. Now, the spoken word, conversation, vocalization itself is vital and deeply personal to me, and as much a part of my understanding of self and being as inscription. There are those who cannot stand to hear the truth and are willing to allow harm to not have to listen. I have known such people, and even held them close. But in this poem I hope to convey the consequences of silencing can be dire. And I mean to be heard one way or another, no matter the cost.” —Vievee Francis [Vievee Francis]( Vievee Francis is the author of Forest Primeval (TriQuarterly Books, 2015). She serves as an associate editor for Callaloo and is an associate professor of English and creative writing at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire. [more-at-poets]( [Forest Primeval]( Poetry by Francis [Forest Primeval]( (TriQuarterly Books, 2015) "SONNET (silenced)" by Olena Kalytiak Davis [read-more]( "Consider the Hands that Write This Letter" by Aracelis Girmay [read-more]( "Mama's Promise" by Marilyn Nelson [read-more]( Poem-a-Day If you value Poem-a-Day, please consider a [monthly donation]( or [one-time gift]( to help make it possible. Poem-a-Day is the only digital series publishing new, previously unpublished work by today’s poets each weekday morning. The free series, which also features a curated selection of classic poems on weekends, reaches 450,000+ readers daily. Thank you! [Small-Blue-RGB-poets.org-Logo]( Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit [Poets.org](. You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click [here](. © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038