in my head
a dance nobody
does now
matter comes
to life
whisper someone's
sleeping and
has been for hours
the voices have kept
down to a whisper
come morning
we will feel outcast
on account of all the unison
or noise approximating
that
tell me a story
whispers the open
being subsumed
under an emblem heart
some ritual takes the place
of blond and stress free
while other modes
allow in inference
with bells on
one might say
a quiver on her lower lip
and I fill in the blanks
with maybe heresy
or blatant truth
or simply syllables
to hold my place
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