I hear you,
Speaking at me,
Through partitioned rooms
Through French windows
Across walls and doors
Through key-holes.

Your voice travels
Across lakes of attrition,
Across emblazoned dinner tables
Across miles of desolate ocean.

Your soliloquies are blustering.
Unperturbed by distance,
Unconcerned with impact,
They rage like violent seas.

Your monologues,
Are verbal landslides,
Aggrandized by their own force.
They crush everything in their path.

And while tempers do cool
And a sea may subside
I’ll continue to seek that promise of solace
And swim against that oncoming tide

January, 2014