
The shape of silence
Drawn by
A single inhale
Its etching lines
Embolden or
Cuts us down
In mere seconds
We cannot know
What form it takes
Invisible to
Ear, eye
Until whatever
Outcome follows
Dying before it’s
Even defined
A priceless
Invisible cloak
For the king
Or just bare
Ass naked
On a horse
That space where
Mind decides, before
Truth is known
Like dancing
In the arms of
A new partner
Held in a strange frame
Catching rhythms
To keep up with
An unfamiliar stride
Struggling to recall
Half forgotten steps
But still swaying, a
Familiar melody
Nonetheless
Why on earth
Must we feel
Before
We know
What will be spoken
What is that saying…
An ass of you and me
My cheeks still burn
Decades later
Knowing I
Assumed incorrectly
But of the two of us
He certainly
Was the ass
.
.
.
.
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.


Comments (5)
The form almost made me feel I was tracing something and I loved the flow of the words
Love this! I love your form too. ⚡💙 Bill ⚡
That moment where you describe “that space where / Mind decides, before / Truth is known” really lingered with me — it’s such an uncomfortable, familiar pause, like your body reacting before your brain gets a vote. The image of dancing with a new partner captured that awkward vulnerability perfectly, especially the half-remembered steps and trying not to stumble while pretending you know the rhythm. And the ending landed with that quiet sting of hindsight — the kind that still makes your cheeks burn years later even when you know you weren’t the one in the wrong. Do you find writing pieces like this helps soften those old flashes of embarrassment, or does it make them sharper when you revisit them?
Well-wrought! The play on the old pun was delighful!
Oof—this hits sharp and smart at the same time. Vulnerable, witty, and quietly ferocious. That pause before knowing? You nailed it. Bare honesty with teeth. 💖