I would've been strong enough to break your silence,
if I had happened to have a hammer.
Suppose looking back on it,
it would have made more sense
to have paid with whiskey
and let you roll around on the wooden floor
vomiting up every syllable
(you had ever spoken to anyone
including your own stupid head)
and that egg salad you had for dinner.
Your sighs made mountains into volcanoes.
I knocked from inside my coffin-
really just because I was bored with spiders being my only company-
and the ominous “them” let me out into the night.
I dusted off my clothes from the century before
and made my move,
foot to earth, oh god-fuck yes,
dance the Charleston and return to the moon soggy streets.
I felt the pandemic hit like a hurricane in the desert,
every silly generation having their own bubonic plague.
Baby, call it what you like-
sickness is spreading at speeds of water out of a burning kettle,
the poor mother teapot is screaming
and all we hear is a mundane hum, a lullaby for a cup and saucer.
Come in closer,
let me whisper it into your eardrum
the rhythms of the prophets of our age.
And did that candle flame just blink at me?