by Alan Bern
Against Silence
When the forest burns along the road
Like God’s eyes in my headlights
And when the dogs are looking for their bones
And it’s raining icepicks on your steel shore
—Chris Cornell, “Rusty Cage
So this is silence now, my ears ringing
in the background—tinnitus, the vestige
of those years in the early ‘90s with Jill,
thrashing to MTV in her parents’ living room,
heads whipping up and down in time
to grunging guitars and pounding drums, a load
of howling along with your preternatural,
four-octave wail, emanating from the depths
of baritone moan that sears into tenor mode
when the forest burns along the road,
and Jill and I ride straight down the middle
of the asphalt’s dark line, “Loud Love”
blasting through the taxed speakers
in my rattling car, your animalistic opening
cry, a pure note emerging from the din,
lifting away into furious, full-throttled might—
our introduction to your raw power, refusing
politeness and repression, the grace of
your falsetto rising in darkness turned bright
like God’s eyes in my headlights,
shining our drive to the beach with nothing
but towels and beer in the hatch, bare feet
stomping the floorboards in time with
the kick drum—a common heartbeat
fueling our 21-year-old bodies like speed
or sex, grinding and winding, blown
through our bloodstreams until nothing
is left untouched by those shivering waves
of sound seeking a garden in which to throne,
and when the dogs are looking for their bones,
buried long ago, we’ll join them on our knees
in the dirt, fingers scratching the rusty cage
for relics—guitar picks, concert Ts, Polaroids,
anything to remind us you were here once,
and so was Jill, as loud as love, and what’s left
has been weighed and counted, buried for
boneyard or burned to ash, particles drifting
along airwaves that can still shatter silence—
singing like you’re both still waging war
and it’s raining icepicks on your steel shore.
Melissa Joplin Higley’s poems appear in Anti-Heroin Chic, MER, Sleet Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, The Night Heron Barks, Writer’s Digest, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College and co-facilitates the Poetry Craft Collective. She lives and writes on the east coast of the United States. Find her online at: melissajoplinhigley.com. Instagram: @mjhigleypoet Twitter: @melissajhigley
Retired children’s librarian Alan Bern has published three books of poetry and has a hybrid fictionalized memoir, IN THE PACE OF THE PATH, forthcoming from UnCollected Press. Recent awards include: Winner, Saw Palm Poetry Contest (2022); Honorable Mention, Littoral Press Poetry Prize(2021). Recent and upcoming writing and photo work include: CERASUS, Thanatos, The Hyacinth Review, DarkWinter, and Mercurius. Alan is a published/exhibited photographer, and he performs with dancer/choreographer Lucinda Weaver as PACES: dance & poetry fit the space and with musicians from Composing Together. Lines & Faces, his press with artist/printer Robert Woods: linesandfaces.com. https://www.instagram.com/abobern/ https://twitter.com/AlanBern1/ https://www.facebook.com/alan.bern.1.