May 2012
Silence
isn’t always golden,
I realize,
seated at my desk
on the landing under the stairs,
like Harry Potter,
latched-in by more
than muggle threats
or witches spells,
lacking even
the hoot of an owl
for company,
she sweeping by me
with an indignant air,
though pausing just long enough
to stare down through the gap
as I yap with some
other employee on the phone,
her dark eyes as scary now
as they were attractive before
swallowing me whole,
as if I was Jonah
unable to escape the jaws
of my own guilt,
her darkness so all encompassing
I am helpless against it,
as if she can cast
a shroud over me
causing me to fall silent as well,
though she uses her silence
like a weapon
to beat me over the shoulder
for those crimes I committed
and I am truly humbled.
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