Silence, overbearing in its subtle stillness,
even as an open box of a thousand crayons,
each pastel
picked,
individually passing through one’s hands,
melting upon initial grasp,
becoming
the colorful messy smear of fluid silence
in any of these next rub off contacts:
shaking hands, steering wheel smear,
covered sneeze, door handles in passing,
dripping
hands folded in prayer,
pats on the back, crotch scratch,
on utensils at meals,
sweaty palm moments,
petting animals,
the rainbow of this stigmata with every
touch,
the seepage of silence,
essentially present.
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