Tonight's Poet Corner: No Words For Now

No Words For Now
by Belinda Roddie

I stopped talking
on the car ride home
after we stopped at a run-of-the-mill
grill that smelled like garlic bread
and grease. We were discussing
our futures and the end of the world.

I stopped talking once
you started crying, because
I had brought up the size of a cat's
carbon footprint. We would get
a furry feline friend, I promised you
that. Maybe a tabby or calico. One that
liked getting scratched behind the ears.

I stopped talking
and started singing instead. The stereo
buzzed along with my strained voice.
To the left, blue trucks lined
the telephone poles, and light poured
from panels like we were reflecting
the sun off sheets of steel.

Then I got quiet, and as we pulled
into the driveway, your eyes were
a little drier. "I just needed to cry
for a bit," you told me, and I understood.
The air was chilled by the hands of an
arriving autumn, bay water running
through the canal beside our apartment
window. Once we got inside, we went
to our bed where I held you in my arms
and tried not talking for a little while longer.