Silence sighed hastily in the corner.
Patience was not a virtue for her.
The room’s dark colored the space between us.
What do you say to silence?
Would she disappear?
I have the instincts of a lemur, so I should’ve seen this coming.
Last night, I sat in the station when Tom introduced me to Silence.
We waited for the train that was late due to traffic.
Who knew traffic occurred on train tracks?
Perhaps it wasn’t late, it just seemed to last forever.
Silence wore too much bling, in my opinion.
The shimmering stars of the oblivion winked down at us.
Silence sat heavily between me and Tom.
That’s the night that the lights went out in Georgia.
Or maybe they were only out at the 9th Street station.
Tom seemed pretty comfortable in the dark with Silence.
She had a “je ne sais quois” that eluded me.
So, now we sit in my room, pictures of Tom cover every wall.
How could he give me this treatment?
Silent, I sit while Silence sighs hastily in the corner.
Good Morning to You
I come from a modest household.
Green grass, white house, painted smiles.
Milk is brought to the door and laid by the news.
The used bottle set out the night before lays shattered on the porch.
I lie on my cot, shivering in the early heat.
I hear bacon sizzling in the hot fat, splattering her apron.
Dishes clink on the table harder than usual.
Another day in hell has begun.
So I followed her tall full body down the hall.
The heat of the stove glues the sweaty, oily apron to her.
The table is pregnant with eggs, toast, pancakes, and juice.
More food than usual…It’s going to be a really bad day.