Silence -
Emphatically daunting,
Patiently awaiting resolve,
Hoping you choose me.

i walk

brain dragging

behind me

(a suitcase)


this is what i have

this is what i know

this is what i am


did i leave my oven on?

will my apartment

(along with my neighbors)

be spent cinders

when i return?


a line of yellow tape

a shyly raised hand


this is all i have

this is all i know

this is all i am


(forgetful)

(stupid)

(out of room)

(out of time)

(out of spite)

(out of rhyme)


poor

dependent

rummaging through my suitcase

on the sidewalk

for my key


(if it’s yours

you have to prove it)

this really is all my


(fault)

(problem)

loss


pushing past my

belongings

looking beneath my

self

i find the only thing

i ever really had

in a place where it can never be turned to ashes


i am all i have

i am all i know

i am all i am


seeing it safe

slightly scuffed but still intact

(contrary to cruel conveyancing)

i wrap my heart in a dying thought

building a fortress of drying observation

around a charred husk

of burnt-out hope


applying it firmly

between clenched teeth

(edging out gravity with pressure)

behind zipped lips


still, i walk

brain dragging

behind me

(a suitcase)

a large room,

no, a really,

unimaginably

large room,

with a typewriter

in the center

-

the words

“free yourself”

are already spoken,

and underlined,

in the center

of the page

-

there is no blinking cursor,

no glowing white field

-

an iron sight

holds the paper down

so you can

torture or nurture

or shun or ****** it

with both

precision and accuracy

-

careful though,

you can drift

beyond the walls of your

supposedly

big room

in the length of a page