The brassy well crafted utterance
squinty glaring eyes
curled up mock on the lips
white taut fascia
collect themselves
into a bony finger
and dig into her gut.

All this obvious evidence
is glued to her memory
but underneath,
the hatred feeds
on the fiber of his heart
the hurt spawns
in the crevices
and multiplies
in his fierce silence.

11/09/2008

Author's Note: I bow to the poet, E.J. Pratt, and his poem, "Silences" which I read this morning in a wonderful anthology: Poet's Choice, edited by Paul Engle and Joseph Langland.

Posted on 11/09/2008
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