Thursday, April 23, 2009

echo; i'm just an echo.

"my heart is a bird,
but my ribs are a cage..."

i'm leaving again, he says.
that's as much warning as he gives before he steps off his perch and begins to claw his way up my throat. i choke on his exit, knowing that it will be even harder to breath when he's gone, even though my chest will be empty, spacious. the sound of my ribs clattering together will echo once he makes his daring escape, they'll resound like thousands of drums, clickety-clacking, the sound coming out my nose and ears. it will give my words a percussion accompaniment that's unrivaled by any orchestra in the city.
"forgive [clickety clickety click click snap] me [click clack clackety click clack], love. [rattle, clickclickclick.]"

you'll hear it, and know the truth.
i don't want you to know that i'm hollow like an old log, except the rings in me don't have the history. i don't want that echo to reach your ears. i don't want to see your eyes widen with the realization that this sweet fluttering thing has furiously fled.

i face you and it's like slow motion. my heart should be beating in my chest, my throat, my ears.

click, clack, my ribs say, as if responding to my anxiousness.

cliick, claack,

cliick, claack.



  1. I want to hear this out loud.

    Always such a treat to read your writing, dear. This seems like it should be a painting; your piece, I mean. I can envision it as a series of images.

  2. if you ever call me i'll read whatever you want out loud!!!