The problem with stillness
is that the moment you notice
it’s there,
it’s given weight.
Once acknowledged,
it starts to grind over you,
smearing you
beneath the hands
of a clock.
The silence
is not comfortable,
but imposing,
asking you
if what you have to say
is really worth
anything,
if it’s even
enough
to break through
the thick
grease
of inertia.
Image: A Still Life With Fish, Fruit, Game, and a Goldfish Bowl by Lucas Shaefels
Wayward Wanton 