Acrid by Nicole Barth [4/16/13]

Silence runs rampant in the playground of the night.

It stops and shudders, twitching so slightly
before changing course.

Its footsteps reverberate,
forever repeated by the earth on which it treads.
The shivering ground: blades of grass quiver.
The midnight wind is troubled.

Because in the end,
yes,
always the end,
Remember what is left unsaid.

Ask Me by Nicole Barth [4/16/13]

What scrawling do you hide?
A conflicted jigsaw of care and condescension.
An unpleasant sip of bitter tea.

But how could I turn away?
I'm lost in a smattering of broken intentions.

Stuttered retorts trapped at the gate of hesitation.
I hung from the lights of inverted cities.
Vestiges of the mess you made.