The Ventriloquist

Mushroom clouds
would bloom like soufflés
inside your chest
whenever he would ring

the house, offer to take
the children out to tea;
his words a tuning fork
for producing shock

waves that would rip
through each delicate organ
until you had his vowels
and syllables lodged

in your mouth, ready to make
it numb so he could re-conquer
everything he thought was his.