These Words by David Golledge


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She thinks her words are weightless
as her silence. Assuming they
escape her mouth like feathers
to be caught on updrafts light as the air,
their worth lost to the clouds.

Preferring to rely on the deed,
she is indifferent to the things
she says or does not say, considering
them devoid of meaning or impact.
But her words and their lack

fall on me like bricks.
Declaration as deed
tearing bone and skin, cutting
cutting the man within
and I bleed.