May 012014
 

Megan Pinto

 

Even as children we were more exposed,

less beautiful at night. You remember

what it was like, there, hidden under thin blankets

in the summer when we wanted to sleep naked

or float on rafts in your pool.

 

Yes, yes, we were different than our parents

who needed to talk through those nights,

every night, red wine in tumblers

or coffee mugs. We were not allowed to listen.

 

Why were we always alone?

 

I knew not to ask.

After dinner we sat damp from the shower,

our hair wrapped in towels, listening.

 

I still don’t know what you thought about–

Even back then we understood something

about the nature of silence.

 

 Posted by at 10:22 am