There Is No Sound
stretches till
its sides are wedged
against the walls,
the promise of a scream
swells,
bursting the seams
of place
raging, broadsword drawn -
fell swoops!
the triumph of silence:
the harbinger-knot
lodged in the throat,
a walk on my grave.
(2005-2014 ink doodle, Dianne Selden)
