I've lived with quietness—
I realize it well.
I know the peaceful squeaking
Of my parent's home,
The unexpected quiet
Prior to a deluge of downpour…
The nonappearance of a companion
Who won't return once more.
I know the dull quiet
Of your eyes
The 12 PM observes
Of disappointments and murmurs.
I'm not hesitant to be separated from everyone else
With phantoms or lightning…
It's my own quiet
I discover alarming.
