In Silence

I guess there are always
a thousand things.

In the city,
down the mountain,
in the city.

I didn’t want to throw away
a good word, so I reused it
on you.

It isn’t that I am unkind,
you weren’t listening.

I try to remember that the same water
cycles through a fountain.

On every street
there is a rattle snake,
a telephone, a plastic bag.

I speak from memory
and the same water cycles through a fountain.

In the city,
down the mountain,
in the city.

The next thing won’t surprise you.
See, I told you.

If every line is a party,
the snow will fall thickest
in the valley.

I know how these tests work,
there are a thousand ways
to eat a meal in silence.

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About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in fall, Poetry, travel and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to In Silence

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    You have to shake over the paddle of the openhandedly by taking usage of the corn
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    It is not like ordinary dough, it is not supposed to be soft
    as a baby’s bottom.

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