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The Bankrupted Silence
Silence is golden
The platinum preferred
Rarity, scarcity
A giant padlock clinking
At my neck
Selling out a bit at a time
Left rotting in the pantry
Speak no evil
Speak not one treacherous word
Instructions, destruction
A word pulling fiercely at us
Around the waist
Pulling from pedestal to pillar-box
Left gangrenous and stained in ink
A slight whisper
Or birdsong played with volume down
Above traffic, under and graphic
A slight hum, coming closer, a pair of rusty sheers
At the throat
Stopped in motion, a speaker torn apart
Left roaring vacuous slander in total silence
Silence is golden
Precious gifts in boxes made of ivory
Value, I tell you
Is quite worth the sleepless nights
And the hands
Dripping on mute, repetition looping
Left as a reminder, do not bankrupt my bunker
Copyright ©
Nathaniel Köhp
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