Silenced What is never spoken of and pushed down becomes mold crawling over hearts. Strangling our voices, it scuttles though corridors, tunneling, warping each day. My body. . .this swollen thing carried by legs too thin and crippled to uphold it. Pushed down, tightly clamped in now full of pain, gasping for each breath. Smothered, silenced. street corners enveloped in exhaust fumes slate-like formations wait for light to change her carbon dress his face of ashes crushed within this granite body we eat grey food pulling empty air thru narrow passageway to ink stain train smudged along blurred landscape of city inside myself searching a designer 1 clear line of perspective which distinguishes buildings from streets & points to where the synthetic sky ends …
“Silenced,” The Poetry of Joan McNerney
