To sing the way that I sing
I’ve clawed a hole into my throat
which lets the sunlight pour in
like honey to soothe the wound
and lets my music rush out
with the urgency of a flock of doves
spiraling into the blue noon air.
I can no longer hold my tongue,
my jaw is no cage of secrecy.
I’ve forfeited all of my stories
to melody, but forfeited nonetheless.
You could reach your hand through
the hole in my throat to fold
your fingers around my heart.
You could pull it out or crush it.
I give you the benefit of the doubt
that you won’t choose to gut me.
You do not forsake my vulnerability. 
Through my neck’s gaping wound
you can watch my vocal chords dance.
You can hear my heartbeat ringing
from my open throat, the drum
that backbones the song.