little by little
Sunday, February 29, 2004
Silence is Water
-for the girl who could love you
Picture the boy who could love you.
Clutching the vulnerability of a floral hope.
When people speak of the rose
They fail to realise that the perfect flower is
His clutch:
Two-handed, cross-fingered,
Constantly muscling hope from gravity.
It is a lurching trust you have no counterbalance to.
So there will be silence,
As you wager two lifetimes on what is not said.
Yet what colour is the taste
Of water to a blind boy?
In the shapelessness of silence
Potential confronts you.
And as the pool rises exponentially, inside
The bubble of you two,
The pressure to speak becomes its own lock-
For to open the mouth,
You will either have to drink or drown.
