Reader’s Choice for the Ceiling 200 Contest (2021)
~
Losing the Words
I.
The words won’t stop. They topple out of your mouth, pushing each other aside, piling in a heap (a tangle of T’s, a slew of S’s). You try to put them back in order, line them up like syllabic soldiers, a phalanx of phonemes (tightly arranged, dutiful, obedient). You try to plug up the words with white pills, pink pills, orange pills. The words stop, but not the way you want them to.
II.
One perk of being a crossword puzzle editor is that you’ve become a walking thesaurus. You rattle off synonyms without thinking. Walking through the grocery store: sale, bargain. Eggplant, aubergine. Pop, soda.
You never thought you’d be at a loss for words.
III.
You shuffle down the aisle at Giant Eagle in a daze, your mind clouded as the pickle jars that line the shelves.
You look at jam, think “fudge.” You see mayonnaise, read “mustache.”
Words appear unbidden, but they’re the wrong ones. (Rectangle. Mustard. Formica.)
You fret over preserves for nine minutes, unable to name the fruit you’re seeking. You want to start crying; instead, you reach for a six-pack of unsweetened blueberry applesauce.
~
Becki Lee has lived in seven states but currently resides in Maryland. She writes and edits prose and bakes a whole lot of banana bread.