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they sit me down
the chair is soft
that's how I know
the light is kind
it only wants the truth
so it says
so it says
I open my mouth
and the words rearrange themselves
into what they can believe
I am being questioned by a room that already knows
the answer it will keep
the answer it will bury
I am speaking but the transcript writes itself
in a language I don't speak
they ask about the evening
I say it was gold
they tilt their heads
gold is not a time of day
they ask about the feeling
I say it was loud
they write down
subject is unsure of volume
I try again
slower
cleaner
my voice becomes a stranger
asking permission
I am being questioned by a room that already knows
the answer it will keep
the answer it will bury
I am speaking but the transcript writes itself
in a language I don't speak
who taught you
that your memory
is the least reliable witness
in this room
who taught you
to apologize
before the question
even forms
I try again
slower
cleaner
my voice becomes a stranger
asking permission
I am being questioned by a room that already knows
the answer it will keep
the answer it will bury
I am speaking but the transcript writes itself
in a language I don't speak
I don't remember
what I don't remember
but I remember
the soft chair
the kind light
and how long it took
to stop believing
my own
voice
