you can hear the world sleeping

it makes its own sound
bears its own cross
fills its own void

a spiderweb of dream
and nightmare

edged with dewdrop and laughter

spoken words float out
across the horizon of yesterday

someone just waking up
will hear them today

your whisper
is the scream
that stops the hand
that wields the knife

your off key whistle
is the icy finger
beneath the crack
of winter’s window

your declaration of love
is the robin singing penance
for curing dawn
of all color

lie still
in the mirror dark quiet


it’s impossible to breathe
without inhaling
someone else’s






A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.


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