The Loudest Thing Not Said
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| Artist Unknown, probably AI |
The Loudest Thing Not Said
Silence sits heavier than leather. It clings like smoke. It smells faintly of oil and old thunder. I wear it the same as my cut, stitched tight across ribs, no room to breathe too deep, too honest.
The boys think quiet is control. A closed mouth, a loaded room. They mistake absence for authority. I know better. Silence is a bar tab unpaid, interest compounding in the gut.
Inside, I draft sonnets in the language of engines. Pistons rhyme with regret. Chrome flashes like a cheap metaphor I cannot spend. Every unspoken line paces the cage of my teeth, looking for a weak lock.
I nod. They nod back. Kings of nothing said.
If I opened my mouth, it would not be poetry. It would be weather.
—--
Silence, heavy hide.
Engines rhyme with locked-up breath,
Storm behind my teeth.
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This Haibun (Prose/Haiku combo) shared with those quiet types in the corner, over at the DVerse Poets Pub.
I would love to know what you thought about this piece.
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Your haibun not only appeals to the senses, Chris, but it is also dark and menacing. This metaphor is very effective: ‘Silence is a bar tab unpaid, interest compounding in the gut’. I love the idea of drafting ‘sonnets in the language of engines.
ReplyDeleteThis is such an interesting haibun, the metaphors are on point, your end haiku resonating
ReplyDeleteMuch love
You capture that feeling of holding one's tongue when you want to spit nails well! Gritty and gripping, Chris.
ReplyDeleteThis was powerful 👏
ReplyDelete"Silence, heavy hide.
Engines rhyme with locked-up breath,
Storm behind my teeth."
— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫
Bring out those sonnets... do it
ReplyDeleteUntapped poetic horsepower under the hood, and when released, it may register on the richter scale. I'm with, Bjorn. Let her rip till the world's teeth rattle. We need something to shake it up and bring it to its senses.
ReplyDeleteThis is brilliant. I love the drama and “Every unspoken line paces the cage of my teeth” — and I want to read your sonnets drafted in the language of engines, please.
ReplyDeleteAwesome haibun, Chris!
ReplyDeleteExcellent metaphors in this dark world.
ReplyDelete