Wednesday, September 10, 2008


I am silent.
Silent as -
not the grave -
some other place,
where you cannot hear
the worms turning
around bones.

I used to like your fringed
black eyes - infant fingers -
slipper feet -
to think you were so new
to this land, new
to being in the world
with only you.

But the six-o'clock slam
and slap of jandals
as you claim the bathroom first,
sitting by the log fire in your jacket
with the heater blasting,
and the roaring of ear pressed to door
as you listen listen listen,
fill your ears with us,

have made me silent.
All my sound sucked in
to the hollows of my lemon cheeks.


Blogger Chris Never said...

what the hell is a jandal?


a jelly sandal *grin*

Love the lemon cheeks line
gives a real sense of sour disposition

I assume the neighbors near someone aren't all that easy to live with?

10:18 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

mmm, could say that. still, shouldn't complain I guess. it helps pay the bills.

4:55 AM  

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