the injury to her hyoid
bone caused a constant
choke hold
she’d swallow as if
the cherry pit she felt
were natural
as if the strangle hold
were a phantom limb
extracted from her neck
and swallowed
the fear lodged itself
in her omohyoid
and her shoulders
pulled forward
chin jutted
still, over the brambled years
she could imagine him
slamming his body
toward her soft palette
the viscous saltiness
thick on the back
of her throat
she rarely cried out after that
but swallowed her pain
and shouldered
insistent shoves
relentless demands
hands pushing her
head down
hands clouding
like a softly drugged
mind-set, the open
channel she vaguely
remembered
on her crown
