The Loudest Thing Not Said
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. ----- This Haibun (Prose/Haiku combo) shared with those quiet types in the corner , over at the DVerse Poets Pub. ©2026 Christopher Reilley I would love to ...
