Knock Knock

there was a time (dark)
when the words refused to come.
like disobedient dogs, they milled
about the house, begging for prime rib
and pissing at the carpet.
i could never leash you, i said.
it is against your religion.
and i would occupy the writing chair,
but writing would not occupy me.
instead i had to listen to the sound of birds
not hitting the windows
and tongue-inspired waves
lapping at the plastic walls of dishes,
empty pockets full of fingers.