Talk To Me

Her lips are sealed, the space between stones.
The silence is a taste, an awkward dessert,
all to familiar race into the mouth of discontent.
Haste to the point of abuse, her eyes fixed into
the hush in the room, at least i know we see
the same thing, a little out of place joint.

The curse falls like heaven and land,
suffer now child of God, mother of men,
you are no longer in the balance, so bare
the burden unto thine offspring whose body
shares the same affliction. Her marble motions
tell me all I need to know.

I slowly stand into the force of the river,
no faith on the banks, brand me now with the
iron of courage. The twill in my jacket talks to
my arms - you will not fear the wind, the hat
says no such thing to my face.

Ice cream it is.