A tremendous silence punctuated with brief brief memory.
It pulses at the temples, pleading for sleep.
A child, tugging furiously at his mother’s skirt.
Please, please.
A tremendous silence that breathes its own fallacies.
It is not wanted but wanton and but we must, we must.
A fever unbroken as it burns the cheeks fiercely.
Flush of red.
A tremendous silence weighing outcome versus in—
It whispers secrets. Just love me. Do you think you could?
An anger, tugging on the feet of strangers who stumble.
Pause. A moment.
A tremendous silence.
It is willowy.
An acceptance.
And I know. I do.
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