ferm el cor that can not start

six sestinas written to the wind, in the rain, with chalk
nobody knows the cure for her whimpering
she concludes that she must not write
her lips pursed tightly as she cuts her hand
off
her magnitude dwindles
her heave deflates
that which was thrust is now conquered teem
fire freezes water when she attempts word
the baby was born glaucous
without breath
she needs satisfaction
nothing can sate!
she enjoys frustration of trying
she brags about her crying  
she can't talk
her tongue has been usurped