It’s not a question
without the mark: How do we live
with trust in a world that will continue
to betray us. Hear my voice
not lift at the end. How do we trust
when we continue to be betrayed.
For the first time I doubt
we’ll find our way back. But how
can we not. See how the terminal
mark allows a question
to dress as statement and vice versa.
Sometimes if I am quiet and still,
I can hear a small hum inside me,
an appliance left running.
Years ago I thought it was coming
from my bones. The hum
kept me company, and I thought
thank god for bones, for the fidelity
of bones—they’ll be there
until the end and then some.
Now what. How to continue.
I’ve started calling the hum the soul.
Today I have to hold
my breath to hear it. What question
does it keep not asking
and not asking, never changing
its pitch. How do I answer.