Poetry

The Sound
by Kim Addonizio

Marc says the suffering that we don’t see
still makes a sort of sound — a subtle, soft
noise, nothing like the cries of screams that we
might think of — more the slight scrape of a hat doffed
by a quiet man, ignored as he stands back
to let a lovely woman pass, her dress
just brushing his coat. Or else it’s like a crack
in an old foundation, slowly widening, the stress
and slippage going on unnoticed by
the family upstairs, the daughter leaving
for a date, her mother’s resigned sigh
when she sees her. It’s like the heaving
of a stone into a lake, before it drops.
It’s shy, it’s barely there. It never stops.

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The New Amsterdams — Change My Mind

Regina Spektor — The Noise

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1 comment

  1. Jon Campbell’s avatar

    I liked that poem a lot. It’s crazy how so much of us hold in what we feel as the suffering passes by in time.

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