Screams in my Sleep

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“I don’t think many people appreciate silence or realize that it is as close to music as you can get.” ― Toni Morrison

I grew up in a house of silence
secrets eeking from the walls from the
rooftop attic that held empty bottles and old
newspapers and the sound of my
first muffled cries
when I finally left its structure
rubbled and ruin
echoing empty
I built my own house out of silence
and I can tell you
it’s more like a scream

last night while I slept I dreamt
that I’ve left a towel on the stovetop
that the house in engulfed in flames
that I always wanted to die by fire
but I never wanted to live that way
that I stand in the middle of my bedroom
and scream at the top of my lungs
while I count down from one hundred
and when they ask why I say
that is how long and how painful it is
to let every dream I had die

and while I sleep I hear an ice cream truck
refreshing and cold
outside the open window
and I think
you’re too late

from the rubble of the foundation
of another house of silence
the words stack against the walls
slide down the old wallpaper and
collect like dust on the baseboards
nothing but broken bones
and hurting heartbeats
breaking aching taking
too long too long too long

and when he has finished
chewing me up and spitting me out
a pin drops
our stomachs loudly rumble at the same time
and I think that this should be funny
with anybody else
in any other world

hunger is audible
in silence
hunger is a way to scream
too