We sit silently in the flickering light,

shadows cast by the box in the corner

that we are earnestly not watching,

and we studiously avoid a conversation

neither wants to start.

Meaningless sounds form a backdrop

to thoughts that hurtle round my head

on a repeating loop,

in hope that something might be different

on the next pass.

Questions, whose response

would release the floodgates

in a deluge of devastation.

So we sit.

And the longer we sit,

relief is tempered

with a steadily building tension.

We both feel the approach

of the impending explosion,

neither wanting to ignite the spark.

◄ Summer, Sheephaven Bay

Seasonal Speculations ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 22nd Dec 2017 17:11

IMO, absolutely brilliant, tight, fast-paced and hard-hitting in universal content.

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