One Time. Once—she had a mark.
Thanksgiving day. She wore a turtleneck
and pinched lips. Kept tugging her collar—
it was hard living with her silence. Wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t
respond. I was trying—
trying to communicate. You know—

That silence was a hook to the gut. I had to shout—
to stop my head filling with that fucking static—that knowing
what she was thinking. She would try to hide
behind this fake vacancy—I could read her behavior
for Christ’s sake! I mean—Every time I’d start talking

She wouldn’t look at me. You know that—THAT
left a mark. If she did—she was like this alley cat
watching me through a fence
waiting