Then comes the silence.
It is a dolphin silence,
a pearling pod brimming with chimes of words that need not be said aloud
a tsunami of champagne in a frosting glass tilting as the poles reverse direction slowly without warning anyone of the coming magnet crisis.
Then comes the sickly pregnant silence.
Cheeks altogether too rosy, they melt when butter yawns to rise in the east;
a silent heart too bright with things to come and things already loved regardless of their lack of ever having earned it.
This kiss of bubbly birthday cake slays the lamb before the cream has flowed into the milk-teeth baby:
It is a goodbye chocolate kiss
that tickles deaf ears
with its ruby matte lipstick.
Then comes forever
A desert of silence, too infinite to cross, too fatal to fall to the knees in despair
Sweet silken sand runs between my fingers, gone.
The milk and honey growls within my flesh, taunting me as I am starved out by the silence.
(Above image taken by Anne Seaworthy at Linfield College in McMinnville, Oregon, USA.)