ThereIs Not Much Poetry For The Speechless

There is not much poetry for the speechless

By Katherine Barbour Third Place Winner of the SNAPS Poetry Contest

It's hard to write about you when I spent a summer never meaning what I said. Like that time, when the sun’s orange haze crept over us like burning tide, and I asked you what time it was. What I meant to ask was: How long can you hold me? How long before you feel my heartbeat against the caramel of your skin, and you hear the frantic, aching thrum of my pulse.

There is not much poetry for the speechless. I can’t think of any metaphors for the day you got a new haircut. There is no carnation rusty red for the flush that crept up my spine. No moonlight silver silk for your voice in the shower. Or exposed wire sizzle for your eyes over breakfast. The diner smelt of ketchup, grease, and caffeine and you were three seats too far.

It's hard to think of similes when all the blunt edges of syllables are stuck on my tongue. Mouth full of deadweight words like stay What are you doing today? Your smile tastes like morning coffee. I dreamt of you last night. Do you think of me when I leave? I may want to love you but I’ll never give myself the chance. I’ll miss you. Goodbye.

I now rest in the rays of regret, 1025 silent miles from you . There are only words now that keep me warm at night. The ones I never said and the ones I’ll never hear in return. They sleep next to me on my pillow, tuck themselves in beside me as we count the hours. I know that once the sun sinks below the horizon and the snowflakes fall to the icy earth, they will lay with me and count them too.