I stand

     I look the person in the eye

I try to speak 

     My speech, my performance for whoever happens to be listening, memorized ten thousand times over

The words catch in my throat like the inner lining has turned to Gorilla Glue

      Like flies on the sticky paper placed between the leaves of my tomatoe vines 

Words spelled out so neatly - practiced so meticulously - refuse to budge as I begin to sweat 

      The transformation is not from thought to voice, rather thought to perspiration 

Words drip down my forehead and glisten above my upper lip

      I freeze. I stop. I look away. 

                  Silenced. 

I write because these words use the glue from my throat to stick to the paper

I write because my thoughts turn to ink and lead and meaning instead of glistening droplets of fear

I write to be noticed in ways my phobia of speech will never allow

On paper I have a voice

Through writing people listen. Through writing I can express myself. Through writing I am 

                   Heard.