What the Sky Looks like Before it Rains
What did you think of me, wanting
you, my silent tongue waiting, always
wanting was a language you couldn’t speak,
not then. Only with your eyes,
black and still, and still
you never told me, could never say
what you wanted, what you wanted
when you wanted it.
Your wanting was a language I couldn’t speak.
Only the edge
that my eyes caught, that
black, still wanting
at that edgeless edge. Speak, I said, but you
commanded me to be silent, to look
Only. Still thing trapped
at the edge of languageless
nothingness, the darkest, most silent
Please just once
Hanna Hupp is a student at Western Washington University, studying English Literature and Humanities. She has wholeheartedly embraced her adoptive home of Bellingham, and when she isn't reading and writing poetry, she spends much of her time finding ways to explore it on foot.