A Reading
       

Silence.
No questions.
Questioners but no questions.
Silence.

The silence is awkward.
The non-questions are awkward.
The room is awkward.
The room tilts backward awkwardly.

The room spills its awkward load of non-questions
on the lectern.
The silence is a door.
The lectern is the knob on the door of silence.

He folds the silence in half.
Then in half again.
Then in half again.
Then he puts the door of silence into the inside

pocket of his jacket.
The room tilts to the angle gravity loves.
He slides across the stage.
He opens the door and falls into his pocket.

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Copyright © 2021 J.R. Solonche All rights reserved
from The Manhattan Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission