Why speak of sorrow
when it slips out
of the mouths
of the broken birds
clutching to the telephone lines

why speak of regret
when the black feral cat
runs into the hedges
upon your turn into the drive

why speak of rage
when the car skids
on the slick ice
in the opposite direction
of your intentions

why tell anyone
about the secret paralysis
that seizes you during sleep

why speak to the
rabid moon
when the crickets
are muted
and starving
on the dark

WHAT TO SAY by Connie Post

This poem won Second Prize in our 2019 Poetry Contest

Photo used under CC.