I’ve become quite skilled
in unspoken word
biting my own tongue
regrets of omission rather
than ruing the things I’ve said
l’esprit de l’escalier?
my retorts are always timely
mine’s the sound of one voice
a monologue
so I’m never wrong
in my mind there are no lips
so cursing is not as pleasant
I miss furling my lip while hurling air
at that back-throat k
my mind’s in the guttural sounds it makes
down along the curb
my silence is the good fence
that makes good neighbors
so they say
I sing out loud ancient hymns
they resonate inside my head
reverberate in cool chambers
in the crypts below the abbey
you will never know just how I feel
about you my friend
until the very end
know me by my epitaph
it will read
. . .
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 