Not Even a Saucer

Your silence speaks of anger…
Your words, when they hatch at last,
burrow like tiny poison darts
into the softness that surrounds my heart,
turn it into a bitter shield.

What did I do?
Surely I did nothing to invite this punishment?
Or is it my very inertia, my passivity,
that does enrage you so?
Something I learned in childhood:

Do nothing and you will do nothing wrong.
If only it worked that way.
Caged in my head,
my thoughts succumb to slow starvation.

If I spoke, you would not hear.
If you heard, you would not understand.
You would accuse me of using
“difficult words,”stopper your ears
leave the room, leave the house.
I, too, choose to skip the blow-up.
We are not the dish-throwing kind:
In all our many years together,
not even a saucer has hit the wall.
Our children will inherit a complete set of everything.

Photo Credit: blondinrikard via Compfight cc


Elisabeth Khan

Born in Belgium, I lived 25 years in Michigan before becoming a nomad traveling back and forth between the USA, Europe, the UAE, and India. I blog when I find the time but usually I am too busy living. A few of my stories and poems have been published in “Hanging Loose,” “The McGuffin,” and other places. My travels and my family are my main sources of inspiration.

4 thoughts on “Not Even a Saucer

  1. Susan P. BlevinsSusan P. Blevins Reply

    I just LOVE “Your words, when they hatch at last, burrow like tiny poison darts into the softness that surrounds my heart”.
    So wonderful and deeply felt and expressed perfectly. And the pragmatic humor at the end about the complete set of everything…! Wow, you nailed it! With honesty and kindness! And acknowledgement of that certain northern European self-control that as a Brit I recognize so well! Well done and thank you!

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