’My lips are sealed,’ he snorted. No one understood.
He removed the tape from his mouth and would have repeated
his cry but realised his words were now a lie
and ‘my lips were sealed’ was lame. He shook his head
and willed he were a chuck in Birnam Wood
or that sheep who passed for wolf until it bleated
but nothing worked for him. In one last try
to wake he writhed and smote, fell out of bed.