Silence, by Charlie Brice

Silence, by Odilon Redon (France) 1911

Silence

Your hush filled the room,
not with criticism, but concern.
Dignified yet vulnerable 
your pale countenance covered 
Manhattan’s burst and blast 
with a blanket of quiet.

I visited you at MoMA
at every chance. I imagined
your fingers resting gently
against my lips seconds
before they touched 
your own. I suppose

I fell in love with you
a little bit. Last time I
perused those aesthetic
walls, you weren’t there.
Your absence a gong
in my heart, sounds of
car horns angry
in my soul.

It’s your stillness
I remember—how, 
like a shade, you
slipped away even
when you were there.

Charlie Brice

Charlie Brice is the author of Flashcuts Out of Chaos (2016), Mnemosyne’s Hand (2018), and An Accident of Blood (2019), all from WordTech Editions. His poetry has been nominated for the Best of Net anthology and twice for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Atlanta Review, The Sunlight Press, Chiron Review, Plainsongs, I-70 Review, Mudfish 12, The Paterson Literary Review, and elsewhere.