PoCo poem: Squall

Squall

I will. Tomorrow.
And an explanation for being quiet.

As if silence can be explained, as if
an explanation is needed. Sonorous expectations
roll down the mud-tracked street. I know. Tomorrow.
And an expectation that all will be resolved.

Anticipation dissolves in puddles like so many
oily rainbows. Tomorrow –
isn’t that what you said? I forget. And leave
wet footsteps to echo through empty hallways.

A hard sky says tomorrow
there will be rain. The forecaster concurs. This calm is only storm
mistaken for artistic license. Painted screens will be the squall.
This is what the storm forgets. And this is what I haven’t told you:

I know tomorrow.
And what your silence means.

* * *

So this is a version of a poem Cynthia (aka Twitches) and I wrote together, line by line via email.

There’s another version here, couplets based on the lines as we wrote them. And Cynthia has a good revision in the comment section at The PoCo post, too. I want to work this over, but thought I’d share some process. And point to PoCo. Again.

Related posts:

1. More PoCo fun: translating
2. imitation as collaboration
3. A mash-up: I Will Wake Up