All day you've had it—
that catch in the throat, like something
unnamed wants out but won't rise.
Not a sob, not yet. More like a bird
learning the edge of its cage. Once,
you watched a horse bolt in
a thunderstorm—no rope could hold it.
It ran & ran until all that was left was
the wet imprint of its hooves.
& isn't that like the body when it's had enough
silence? You carry the sound of your heartbeat
into the night & set it loose.