By Madison
Date: 22 April 1999

The Office

I sent a letter to his desk.
Subtle words like cream in confections
waiting in a paper sack. 
Coffee dribbled down the side of a cracked cup.
I waited for an answer for what felt like a day.
It was.
My mind played courier to waste the time
and brought back sensible apologies in his defense
with a thick smile
and a blot of lipstick on a tooth.
I almost believed them.
Except for the quiet. 
Quiet that could have meant anything.
Quiet that turned into pink insulation in a blistery summer attic
muffling what grew louder with each non-response
piercing holes in random patterns
across my confidence
and scraping the edges of my throat.
Why do I wait.


M Madison
10 mar 96
copyright © 1997