Whose silence is this
that sweeps past like a rolling cloud
Whiskey quiet. Cigar quiet.
The house murmurs as it settles in
for the night. Planets and stars
listen and nod. Lungs that whisper,
mind that hums, heart that
mocks, take heart.
All the good people have died.
Your memories of them soon to die as well:
Tablets of untranslatable laws
fall from their pedestals,
paving the way
You know whose silence this is, then,
and how it will break slowly,
like a breath you can only hold
for so long.