silence
if far
more terrifying
than the
loudest
scream

the cold
shoulder
of an old
friend

the anger of
a new one

shattering the night

there is a beauty

in numbers

that so many

miss

and it

saddens me

so many things

would lose their

value

if numbers were

as irrelevant

as some say they are

like the number 11

side by side on the

front screen

of a teenage girl’s phone

as she stares incessantly

waiting for a call

that will never

come

she’ll be exhausted

come tomorrow

but she wouldn’t dare

miss him

she’ll fall asleep

at school

number two pencil

in hand

sharpened so carefully

by the pencil sharpener

whose blade

is now

missing

or the man

as he avoids staring

at the clock

on the bar wall

very clearly reading

6 am

his children are

getting ready for school

but he’s not there

and neither is his

wife

not really, anyway

her mind is elsewhere

on the man

who smiled at her

at the metro

yesterday

and convinced her

to stay away

from the tracks

after all,

the train to 22nd street

was coming,

and it would be a shame

for her to get

in

its

way

no matter how easy it would have been

even as i sit here

staring at my screen

at exhausted o’ clock

having deleted

words upon words

for the umpteenth

time,

it’s so very obvious

to me

how different

this poem

would

have been

if i had not

twenty-six letters

infinite numbers

and combinations

yet still not enough

to speak of

all the times

you’ve made me realize

how alive i truly am

the worst that could happen?!

a meteor could hit the earth
at this very moment
and stop me dead in my tracks

speaking of tracks
two trains could collide
right now and cause
mass destruction

really, it's just a terribly inconvenient time
i couldn't possibly-

the black plague,
the bird flu,
terrorists,
poltergeists!

so there really is no reason for me to
go over there and interrupt him
with so many dangers lurking about-

nausea
heart burn
indigestion
upset stomach

and oh, god strike me
dead if i must even imagine
what else!

the four horsemen
of the apocalypse
could decide to
come upon us right now,

and you want me
to go up to him and
say hello?!
honestly, you really must
get your priorities in order.

(but the very worst that could happen?
he could say no.)

you’re not just

like the stars

darling

you are the stars

that light my sky

every night
& every day

(even if i cannot see them)

i want to write,

but my words are

so shy.



they cling

to my brain

like a child

to a

blanket,



as if

their very life

depends

upon

it



little do they know,

if only

they would just

let go,

their life

would

truly begin.



the ink, their blood,

the paper, their bones.