The Sound by Kim Addonizio
I discovered a poem by Kim Addonizio in Santa Fe a couple years ago, but I’d never sought out more until now. I love the imagery in this one.
The Sound
By Kim Addonizio
Marc says the suffering that we don’t see
still makes a sort of sound—a subtle, soft
noise, nothing like the cries of screams that we
might think of—more the slight scrape of a hat doffed
by a quiet man, ignored as he stands back
to let a lovely woman pass, her dress
just brushing his coat. Or else it’s like a crack
in an old foundation, slowly widening, the stress
and slippage going on unnoticed by
the family upstairs, the daughter leaving
for a date, her mother’s resigned sigh
when she sees her. It’s like the heaving
of a stone into a lake, before it drops.
It’s shy, it’s barely there. It never stops.
