judgment against death
Linda M. Crate
you’re like the little
brown bat that
visited me
this summer
unwanted and unwelcome
hissing at me
when all i want is a moment’s
peace and some sanity
always demanding
to be seen and felt and known
when sometimes i wanted
to forget the curvature of your face,
and always trying to manipulate
me and my emotions and insisting that
you knew so much better than me
all the things of the world;
i could tell you a place where you could
shove your unwanted advice
but that would mean speaking to you once more—
i will wear this silence well
because it’s better than the chaos of your name
judgment day has come
i will not speak to you ever again
because your negativity grates in my ears like
a screeching banshee,
and where you were always darkness
i was always light
life and death cannot dance together
as i once thought.
