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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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WAITING

 

You talked to me the way that rain talked to a

fifty year old wooden banister

soaking into the seams, filling in small rounded holes

drops pooling over and dripping down

the edges of the beam

 

In the summer of your silence

the dry wood cracked into splinters

like an old man’s knuckles,

slivers of that silence

aged like a wine or a cheese

but no delicacy or subtle variations in that passage of time

just everything muted

 

the quiet crumbles in my mouth like stale crumbs

of a pastry that was once syrupy

but now sugar is crystalized into snowflakes

that have slid down the sides

much like the rain drops on the bannister, siphoned off

and all that is left is this pale shell of wood and something that

used to be sweet.

 

I am left pacing in the dry dirt, waiting for the rain

Or am I waiting to hear you talk to me again?

 

                                                              -Chloe Viner


File:Countdown.jpg

Counting, ©Paul Downey