Poem 129

We stood in a circle and held a hand of a hand of a hand
Where it was quiet. Where there may have been a shout
On the nape of my neck, sharpening the hairs to spindles.
Hush now, hear the linger of a long lapsed shriek.
I am waiting for anyone to speak, to pierce the circle with
A weep, but the silence weighs like a body draped across
Our swinging arms. I am waiting for the frenzy to begin.
I am raking my toes in the dirt. I am tugging the skin on my nails.
I am chewing the tip of my tongue. I will wait for the frenzy to take us.

From within my heart rhythm’s begun.


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