MONDAY: Beneath the Noise

BY CHARLENE JONES

Copyright is held by the author.

While the full heart tears
at the ragged sleeve
pulling like a dog in heat.

The mind pretends it does not hear,

but walks you down to the dock
or along the city street,
humming the latest jingle
hating yourself for doing that.

So you text someone
to keep the noise down
inside your head.
Then you hear under the waves
your heart
tearing at your ragged sleeve

its teeth fully engorged
with your own blood,

but you check the computer
where not a thought alone occurs.

You keep typing tapping and
thumbing yourself
into a word addiction,
a slush of communication

to shush your beating heart,
its blood beneath your sleeve.

One comment

Post a comment

You may use the following HTML:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>