The Silence

In the evening, we surrender to our
screens: they command, we submit.
Sound-cancelling headphones for me;
some use earbuds. No one speaks.

Beautiful lady, may I
slide my fingers into your ears?
You do not hear me: your earbuds
block my fingers. No one speaks.

Too intimate you say
—would say, if I could enter you.
Wait: a child is dying; her
mother and I weep, on Netflix.
No one speaks.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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