*Bill Risbourg* Pojaque Desert Night
There
Are
Voices
In
The
Cooler,
That
In
The
Quiet,
Raise
A
Riot
Of
Whispered
Words.
When
There’s
Other
Noise,
They
Go
Unheard.
In
The
Silence,
I Listen
For
Verbal
Violence,
But
All
They
Eagerly
Say
Fades
Gently
Away.
I Know
I Only
Hear
The
Flow
Of
Water
Dropping
Slow,
Answering
My
Nightly
Questions,
And
Murmuring
All
I Need
To
Know.
Are
Voices
In
The
Cooler,
That
In
The
Quiet,
Raise
A
Riot
Of
Whispered
Words.
When
There’s
Other
Noise,
They
Go
Unheard.
In
The
Silence,
I Listen
For
Verbal
Violence,
But
All
They
Eagerly
Say
Fades
Gently
Away.
I Know
I Only
Hear
The
Flow
Of
Water
Dropping
Slow,
Answering
My
Nightly
Questions,
And
Murmuring
All
I Need
To
Know.
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