32 Degrees – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

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The quiet between us
like floating icebergs
frostbit tongues in stillness.

Is it that we have forgotten what to say
misplaced our formula to speak,
a habitual slow retreat to safety?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

I am uncertain how to start the
defrost cycle.

© Ali Grimshaw 2019

First shared on The Drabble

20 thoughts on “32 Degrees – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

  1. “Nothing” is about the weightiest reply I’ve ever heard … the opposite of the word’s meaning … and one is left to fill in the remainder “… that I want to discuss with you” … “that I can admit even to myself” … so many possibilities, and probing seems to drop that 32 degrees down below 0!
    You’ve captured the essence of communication’s demise. Ouch, but well said.

    Liked by 2 people

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