Generational Silence

November 1, 2018

The heat is heavy and thick

back East.

It sits weighing with a stench

that sticks to your skin, making you feel unclean.

Sweat beads

drip from the corner of your forehead

down to your mouth

and a week ago I would’ve laughed.

But today I’m quiet, I feel unclean.

Fruit sits in a basket from Target

and though you spent hours killing nats,

it's all in vain.

The plantains  

(you would’ve thought) we neglected

though strong and resilient,

have gone bad.

The clock ticks deafening in the silence,

heavy and thick with disappointment.

A droplet finally forms near brow

and slides down

tingling to Cupid’s bow.

Stinging

with salt near a cut in my mouth,

wounded by silence.

I finally find my voice

in a harrowing gasp.

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