Stillhet; Cisza; Silenzio
You show me your scars, one for each sin. I trace them make them my own. There is no moon, no street sounds and sunrise is a story, fragile and green. You tell me about going to Warsaw alone for seven days. How it was hot and black. How you walked all over town, felt like a naked secret in disguise. I find beauty in the mechanical, in the thin lines of your crow’s feet. I journey to the country of namelessness. When I come out of hiding you explain to me the thousands of names for silence, the different meanings of quiet. Tell me we are a mournful song. We are the same no longer; we are sea-washed and new.
Alex Stolis lives in Minneapolis; he has had poems published in numerous journals. His chapbooks include, Justice for All, (The Conversation Paperpress), Without Dorothy, There is No Going Home (ELJ Publications), and Left of the Dial (corrupt press). Forthcoming books include: Into the land of Nod from Porkbelly Press [2015] and The Hum of Geometry from White Knuckle Press [2015].