Andrew D. Anderson » Poetry » silence mustn’t be

like a swarm of noise, a mouth, it moves
on a biped frame, in polished shoes .

across space and time, it spews these sounds
in tuxedos suits or in silken gowns .

it bares its teeth and squaks quite loudly
flaunting ties and bows pretty proudly .

the noise, the sounds, the squaks the same
taught to speak, and no refrain .

most mouths move and spew that way
few do manage a thing to say .

boisterous mouths, the incessant babels,
alternatively, perhaps, society just unravels .