His mouth was a perfect ‘O’ Like the opening of a guitar, But out of tune, dumbstruck. There was nothing he could Say, no words that his face Hadn’t already expressed. Where had he been all this Time? To not notice the lies Furnishing his own mouth?
The timetable was slanted, Askew in the dusty light. No one had checked in, Nor out, in years. What was that sound, That beating of the walls? I stood in my empty heart.
We think of fainting spells And red outbursts when We hear the word ‘Overreact.’ But often, it is more Accurate to think of the Silence of a cold shoulder.