my whole life has been silent

walden freeman

i am the second son of a setting sun. a procrastinator so intent on putting things off that i put off procrastinating and my problems all disappeared. yours snowballed and your snowballs rolled downhill and grew and formed into a body who knocked so hard against my door that all the icicles fell off my roof and penetrated your body and became ribs cold enough to freeze whatever heart you had.

the hills won't budge and still surround our town and coyotes are competing with fire sirens.