What We Say When We Say Nothing
The rain has died and everything follows:
black, white – the law’s supposition. Their bodies
glisten only in memory. One says look at me from the steel
table as the scale registers the heart’s
weight. Another cries uncertainty in the most certain
of circumstances — laid open, emptied then closed,
the simple mechanics of ritual and form. Throughout my
dreams a line of dark figures shimmer in the cold
corridor, end-to-end, supine and unmoving, assigning
loss. I have fifty-six years and more questions than
answers. The drought testifies to a wrong. A woman
visits her son, a father weeps. Our silence, complicit.
My poem, “What We Say When We Say Nothing,” was published in Glass: A Journal of Poetry in January 2017. Many thanks to editor Anthony Frame for taking this piece and aligning it with some great poems.