You just said something
with your silence.
I heard you as clearly as I heard the gray owl
outside the open window at midnight.
I heard the T, the idiosynchratic diction
on the end of your words, distincT.
You didn't stammer
not once. You said it right out,
with a whispered voice, nearly inaudible.
there is a slight gap
a place in my memory where
threads come untied
where sentences trail off
where voices becomes silent.
Perhaps it wasn't your voice
Perhaps, even though I heard your inflection
and imagined the vividness of your soft smile,
and potent gaze
perhaps it wasn't you.
There is a still small voice, so I've been told,
perhaps it was this voice
inside of me
that sounds as though it is coming from the owl
in the night trees
or the ubiquitous images in my mind
EloquenT silence, compelling
enunciation emphasizing the T
You are now, after all, a voice
inside of me, too
(comment on this poem)