Made of Whispers

I dream I am made of whispers,
and words stretch and shake
whenever I move.

My body spasms into syllables
and words disappear into puffs
of breaths and sighs.

I am a secret
and I hide under the bed
so no one can see me.

I don’t mind being the monster
beneath the bed.
I grab at ankles and feet

until spare change thoughts
clatter onto the floor.
We all need to pay a penance

for our passions, and I am the troll
in my dreams.
I tuck away each memory of my loved ones,

pin ill will on the sleeves of those I loathe,
and tuck flowers in the ears of those I yearn for.
I dream I am made of whispers,

so I can slip in and out of the room
and you would never notice.


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