Sunday, January 1, 2012


I plug my fingers into my ears and refuse to hear
your silence.
I could always live with empty words. I can believe in lies.
I can twist the sounds around your lips and lick them 
into the shapes I like.  
But you've taken away my toolbox and my modeling clay--left me instead with air 
that's dead and cold and hard to mold.
So I'll steal some sentiment from my neighbor's engagement 
ring and stuff it into the hollow thing
that once used to be my body.
I can hear the words you will not say and they've seized the inside of brain
and left me screaming from the pain
of listening to your silence.
I can't force the words from your lips but I
can stubbornly insist on resisting
your malice.