I am holding a phone to my mouth like a microphone,
as I walk through the ravine. Any stranger can see me.
In my throat there is absence. My child
fills every space with words.
When she cannot think of the right ones
she makes up new words.
She is trying to turn the thoughts in her head
into sense and language is not meeting her halfway.
These days language rarely meets me anywhere.
I start to argue, only to find myself at peace
with the argument. Where once there was anger,
there is absence.
There are larger problems to be found in this world
than anger being replaced with emptiness.
Caitlin Thomson is the co-founder of The Poetry Marathon, an international writing event. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and literary journals including: The Adroit Journal, The Penn Review, Barrow Street, and Radar. You can learn more about her writing at www.caitlinthomson.com.
... A visual memory of Cairo consumes me. In this distant recollection, I find myself outside of the Temple of Edfu with my mother and a few other classmates while a musician channels the deity of Horus ...