The Quiet World

Jeffrey McDaniel



In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine words today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.


http://www.marvco.com/







it rains here everyday now, and we listen to the wind and the water pound outside while we lie in bed and whisper. we talk without sound, and I'm always amazed at how quiet a voice can be.

I hear my mother's voice in my head and I hear myself rushing to explain and reason and defend when I realize it's just the two of us here and no one else matters.
as long as I can still hear him, we'll be alright.

ash @ 2:24 PM