Today's poem is by Philip Dacey


I had nothing interesting to say anyway.
The body's policemen
have thrown the voice in jail
for littering the public square.
The order has come down:
"For a change, listen!"
The vocal cords
have unionized, struck
in solidarity
with workers everywhere.
With this whisper,
everything becomes a secret.
Your voice has gone
to escort your dead brother
to the other side.
When your voice returns,
you are a surprise
to yourself, just what
your body wanted all along.

Copyright © 2011 Philip Dacey All rights reserved
from Whiskey Island
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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