What Words

Voices never seen

sing to you in whispers

chanting words near silent

thoughts as if to drown them

Nothing felt but trying

reaching through to nowhere

beyond the droning echoes

endless waves against the grain

Tables set too neatly

almost everything you need or want

except a certain something

that doesn’t fit the scene

Listen lightly hearing nothing

of what you know is surely there

forks and spoons and plates and saucers

in conversation with only air

Where do flowers leave their petals

on the days and nights left in-between?

the bed stand holds a vase of sorrow

too young to leave – too late to stay

I wish I knew what words to tell me

to fill the spaces beneath the noise

relief and pain are holding hands here

so much spent – so hard to say.