Much Conversation Seems To Happen Without Words... Poem by Audrey Stephenson

Salty tears welled up in my thirsty blue telescopes,
but they did not give in to the air’s temptations
I hid myself from a near explosion
The blackened circles met as a quartet of trumpets scream dirty jazz rhythm

Much conversation seems to happen without words

As if some thread or sorts kept me from breathing
without names and constricted my speech into sudden mumbles
rattling through a funnel and into your ears
dropping off feelings of humiliation from myself

Your arrogant yet indifferent tone sets some invisible superiority cloak over my arms, not allowing me to reach you
But they try to grasp your shoulders and hold on
Never letting go
Hanging like Death
this inhibition feels like one would feel watching children drown

We both sigh simultaneously
incessantly with a mask over our tongues
hiding what they want to crack open and pour like yolk
We share several jeers
putting a cloak on people we wish would sleep away into the tack plaid they so righteously don

But we only wish to unveil our tongues and unleash our feelings
like bats from a cave
chaotically dancing through our minds
and taking a rest inside our hearts
Sleeping for a while
they inebriate our bodies into a complete satisfaction of self
flowing through our veins and pumping through arteries until they meet in our hands
Together, twenty sisters and brothers unite to reside here forever
or at least until someone emerges from the fabric
and you are left to fabricate

But once the emergence has lost his flavor
you again dial and confide your ennui to me
and of course, I relent
Love is patient, yes,
but when the well droughts,
all virtues are lost,
and I will relent no more