Even with eyes closed
I cannot find silence.
Yesterday’s sounds are
the menacing growl
of beasts in the distance.
And the inner crystal ball
that predicts the next day
only repeats the last hours
with the furious black
noise of angry bees vibrant
over the whisper of dawn
and the lark’s song.
I swallow saliva.
Silence betrays me.
Even in the solitary amplitude
of my eyelids, the thump slips
from my sleeve like
the ace of the sharp.
And then the sound of screeching tires.
And then the boy tossed through the air.
DQ 3/6/9
