[I USED TO THINK SILENCE WAS BEAUTIFUL, BUT NOW I GET WHY]

ANNA MEISTER

 

I used to think silence was beautiful, but now I get why
we all need to be shouting loud as that summer the couch had fleas.

When the gallery wall told me to cry I was already crying.
The world is full of active losses and my body knows it.

I make Moroccan chicken red as what spills from me
and I miss you so hard. My body bruises like an arrow

and you already know. It’s frightening to call someone you know
will pick up. Smoke blown after lots of talking or not talking

which can be different than silence. Talking makes everything
more real which is a problem here. Tell me the difference between

a change and an end. As if you are a canyon and I’m flying over.
We need mezcal and a lamp turning us oceanic. Remind me again

what might be good to row toward. What does deserve mean?
How can I ever? When I swallow a pill, it settles me and that’s how

I keep on. I whisper be well but how and for how long?
Still my knuckles go white at the word open.