Navigating Channels

Customs, rituals:
the rituals of customs.

Tannoy is a blind eye
with mush tongue.

You wheel your shriek
over still tiptoes.

Someone else smuggles
your lips' light grin.

The silence is stanchion,
they wait like truncheons.

Tack, tack. You cross
an underwater souk.

Your family is blatantly
bottled contraband.

It breaks its cover
like borrowed clockwork.

Stalking to freedom:
the excise is good for you.

From Looks Familiar