By Michele Parker Randall
Easy to lose sight of how much truth
silence can hold. We weigh out costs,
tally memories, rehearse the important
conversations. What happens when
language sails off in a boat half-sunk?
Will we succumb to muteness, become
out-of-practice statues, speechless, dis-
languaged. Our accounts scare us.
We no longer fit inside our own story;
we fragment like undressed stones—
small, tucked into a wall, and walked by
and leaned on. Unseen. We convey
our tales. Our hands, shoulders, entire
faces animated by what is not said