Two Poems by Aleph Altman-Mills

By  | March 1, 2015 | 1 Comment | Filed under: Poetry



On My Attempts To Be Tough

Sometimes I think I want to be
highway-toothed and make people angry

but in the end, the free hugs sign
wasn’t an offer but a plea.



How I Became A Poet

You doused me in silence.

Pulled out my teeth and put them in my shoes,
like pebbles. Sand at the beach.

My rain boots sounded like death rattles.

In my mouth, polished shut,
words flew back and forth like war planes,
crashed into the sinkhole of my throat.
I shook with the sputter of their burning out engines.

You pretended the duct tape you wrapped around my mouth
was a bandage, and now, I always prefer
to bleed.



Aleph Altman-Mills is an autistic writer who collects acorns and likes to buy books other people have already written on. She has been published in The Legendary. She blogs and posts poetry snippets at; poetry prompts are at



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