Sunday, July 13, 2003

Our silence is comfortable.
We take the clips out of our hair
The glasses off our faces
And lie facing each other, serenely comfortable, blinking
At each other’s blurred self- smile
Though we can’t exactly see every tooth grinning
And words
Are unnecessary intruders
Upon our quiet.
What do words matter when
You’re on the other end
Of the line; it’s enough
That you are there.
What does air, articulated
In chatter of alphabet matter
When I can lie in the grass beside you
Quietly, quieter than the whisper of the breeze
And watch the clouds go by-
When it rains I know your soul
Is outside with mine, dancing in
The pouring silver
And smoky clouds-

My quiet is not my void.
This hush is not empty; this space
Is already full of things you do not know of.
My silence is the seal that
Marks you mine- for words,
Bearers of the bumbling, knock-kneed
Gibberish of the tongue
Fade into insignificance as you become
One more star in my sky.

Mina at 1:42 PM