Georges Gilles de la Tourrette
       

I gave my name
      to a locust thrashing
inside the throat,
      & though I

wanted to open
      the skull & stitch
I could not though
      I wanted

to tame like a hypnotist,
      the phantoms
rising I left only
      my name

a tourniquet
      cursed around
the holy trinity
      of my blood,

its ghost the tongue
      you lay out
to display pale
      liquid,

a banquet hall,
      this small red bell
being beaten at
      its center

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Copyright © 2019 David Welch All rights reserved
from Conduit
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission