Poetry

 

HUSH

i want this house to have the silence of death 

without the tragedy of it, i want 

mute walls, mute tiles, a quiet shower, and noiseless door,

television only picture, radio only symbol,

fridge not humming but keeping cold. 

i want to hear only myself on the way to myself 

a long hallway where not a picture frame utters,

no fortuitous march robin song months early,

no abandoned hound asking the night for relief,

no horrible child making shapes in the snow, 

screaming its monologue at a frowning babysitter


i want a peace that sounds like nothing

no lover's voice, even, no gentle stirring,

wooden spoon in their hand.

what kind of stillness can i afford?

the washing machine still convulses,

i still hear a page whimper when it turns, i hear you 

listing the explanations—

leaving again, i fear, is not the silence that i want,

but i don't know that my loud love is digestible at all.

you are overfed and still hungry, so i compromise,

silence it is. at last—nothing is served.

 

Author Bio:

Angel Rosen is a queer, neurodivergent poet living in Pennsyvlania.  She spends her time reading, writing, and watching RuPaul's Drag Race.  Her work can be found at angelrosen.com.  She currently has two poetry collections available: Aurelia and Blake.

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