When Silence Speaks
How can they say
silence has no sound? Make it go away.
Floor-felled, right ear pressed to the phone,
cowering in a quarry of quiet
between coffee table and couch.
Yes, I tell her, yes I can hear.
Fingers in ears, fingers laced across face
in a filigree fretwork of fear.
Overwhelm washes over in waves,
water whooshing into the ears of shells.
Shells like ears or ears like shells...
Muggy heat-thrum of July and August sounds
exploding like pollen grains between ear and brain.
And what should be silence but isn't
hangs like a pall, enwraps like a caul, hissing
wires snake from the wall...
What do the noises sound like?
Snakes writhing and rearing to strike.
We could try you on Quetiapine, she says.
Silence has a sound. I know it speaks.
I know the scream of silent weeks.
Copyright © Charlotte Puddifoot | Year Posted 2024
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