A CODE OF SILENCE
Let yourself down/with knotted bedsheets, gingerly, /through what used to pass for moonlight/in the age of aluminum. --- From “Sleeper Cell” by Dave Bonta, Via Negativa, 09-05-11
Who will tell you, or know what to tell you,
what you have been pieced together for?
what you have been pieced together for?
Were you not made to wait for that one call?
Words, numbers, cannot be trusted. Silence.
Words, numbers, cannot be trusted. Silence.
That would be your only language. Muted. Wait
in resigned silence, like the alloyed moonlight
in resigned silence, like the alloyed moonlight
slipping past your silken bivouac into another
night of waiting for a Silence on the sheets.
night of waiting for a Silence on the sheets.
No one is on this, no codes to break were made;
nothing works except silence, suppliant/defiant.
When your call comes, pray do not use the door,
but climb down your cell from your window sill,
but climb down your cell from your window sill,
clambering down clutching knotted sheets, like
the cat thief descending on an airborne carpet.
the cat thief descending on an airborne carpet.
Against the obscured cookie moon, your shadow
disappears. This time, keep your grave’s silence.
disappears. This time, keep your grave’s silence.
—Albert B. Casuga
09-06-11
09-06-11
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