I bit down when he said it

I bit down when he said it,

when the room expected my laugh.

The words hung there, sticky, waiting for me

to pass them along like a joke that wasn't funny

but everyone needed to believe was.

My teeth found the soft inside of my cheek.

I pressed until I tasted metal—

that bright copper penny taste—

anything but joining in.

Later in the mirror, the puncture.

A small white mark where I'd held my tongue

by holding something else.

The swelling not quite painful,

just present.

Just evidence of the choice I made

when the choice was only which silence

to keep.