They come en masse
and they get me alone,
I hoped I would forget.
I furtively tried to banish them all
to the dark corners
of an oubliette.
But
they just added fuel to the fire,
now
whispers ricochet.
Recollections
play snakes and ladders
with the words I was unable to say.
These ungraspable
wisps how they haunt me,
they echo and they
moan.
I cannot swallow
back the un-uttered,
cannot silence the
regrettable drone.
© Laura Howard 2012
