a cluster of hush

whispering became 
the only language that we could use,
not by mandate--
but from the force of 
collective craving.
a dormant epidemic.
it had always been contagious
& one day it got lose from
a library 
& that lead to
people were whispering
on the train & that's where
they say it spread from.
next, children whispering 
on sidewalk corners.
dads whispering to moms
in the kitchen.
soft tongue words.
a cluster of hush.
a spilling of closeness.
texture of a throw blanket
knitted over teeth. 
people had always wanted
to lean in to each other-- 
to cup hands around ears 
not just for secrets 
but also to tell simple
everyday things like shopping lists 
& what's for dinner. 
theaters became pantomime--
projecting the words along
the bottom of the stage
like silent movies. headsets
whispered the actions to those
who couldn't see. 
people went on dates
talking face to face 
to be able to hear the other person.
the light warmth of the other's breath 
sometimes fogging glasses 
sometimes smelling like the lasagna they ordered
but always feeling impossibly real.
how could this other person 
be so quiet & alive?
people fell in & out of love 
faster & harder.
the knowledge that everyone 
had a louder crisper voice
loomed in the back of minds.
laying next to each other in bed
or down the hall
they would one imagine 
their lovers-- 
even their children & their parents 
with booming roaring voices--
voices like car engines that hadn't
yet too learned to whisper--
voices the took up whole buildings.
voices the cracked bones.
more than anything 
they feared that they too had 
that kind of shattering voice
aching somewhere--
that one day it would break out
& everyone see the loudness 
that had been nestled 
in between all the whispers.
some would try to shout into alley ways
but to no avail-- 
only whispering came out--
a frantic lullaby--
a dampened call