Voices

The blistered reflections of tattered lips,
imprinted like tufts of latticed glass
on an injured screen,
color drowned in the peeling of blood-orange
words, panting their dissonant sighs
to those unwilling to listen,
are the archives of lost voices—

those underwhelmed shadows
of expression,
with worlds at their tongues,
and no history from which to
imagine anything but the
silence.

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