The Shadow of Thunder
He takes it into
his body
the silence and the
scream
He marches
along
footpaths and trembles the shivering
daffodils.
He comes to fill the
silence
between the forking
paths
both are steep
though one
winds down to
the guttural chasm
which sucks sound from molecules so their
whispers at least may
sooth each other
though one
winds up to
a Vulcan crag; he
rumbles up the steepness
head lolling
drunkenly across the path. He will collapse at zenith
what follows: his pawing
for a hollow log to funnel his gasps.
when he retches down
the cliff
the whole
valley
is
swept up
in vibration
He is not the smack
which crumbles the
plaster walls of Jericho
nor the warm
murmurs of ocean caves
;
he is the void
when belief has yet
to penetrate and nurse
stigma back
to health
He kisses the bullet-
-biters, and soldiers
leaving their tours
half dissolved. His method
of love making
is slow and almost mistaken
for
silence
as he
plucks the arrows into
quivering
full-bloomed
lips
©2014 Lex Vex
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