Silences
By John Montague
for Elizabeth
1
Poetry is a weapon, and should be used,
though not in the crudity of violence.
It is a prayer before an unknown altar,
a spell to bless the silence.
2
There is a music beyond all this,
beyond all forms of grievance,
where anger lays its muzzle down
into the lap of silence.
3
Or some butterfly script,
fathomed only by the other,
as supple fingers draw
a silent message from the tangible.
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The giant evil heater is out of my house, and even though the readings of the drywall were not bone dry, I cannot bring myself to regret that there is not a 90-decibel vacuum cleaner scream day and night shrieking my ears. I'm sure my neighbors can't either. I spent the day trying to catch up on things I couldn't concentrate on with the blasters blasting, but I am hopelessly behind. I did, at least, get to watch the season premiere of The Masked Singer, though I'll have to miss the second part tomorrow.
And I saw the What If...? in which Thor and Loki aren't raised as brothers yet become so by choice -- "my brother from another mother" is what Tom and Chris always call each other in interviews! In which Frigga gets to have a life apart from her kids and husband (still the worst father). In which Darcy of the Birthplace of the Snuggie dates Howard the Duck and has a crush on Captain Marvel and her cat. "Not the hair!" So nice to get a fun episode, at least until the scary cross-multiverse end.
Anyway, it was a huge delight to see Chris Hemsworth playing a Thor we've only seen before in a Saturday Night Live skit and a massive pleasure to see Tiny Thunder and Popsicle Stick be the brothers in arms they always should have been. "I only boom in private!" Before I forget, here are some of cows and calves we met at South Mountain Creamery a few weekends ago:
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