Croaks

Strip me to the bone, flay the skin
and tissue so that what's underneath can see
the light of day or catch moon rays. Maybe
it will glisten and blind, but then again it could
be something matter-of-factly plain like
someone's third or fourth "uh-huh" at a dinner table,
and really there should be absolutely nothing
wrong with that. In fact, I hunger for plainness,
for days so ordinary and lethargic I'd have to
ask "What now?" And people would be dumbfounded
because I've gone slack-jawed and mute. Little
do they know I've always been mute; I've just
been pretending this whole time that I could speak
this language which could have been barks and neighs
and growls and croaks for all I care. I haven't
been following at all.