Her face will scrunched up,
her eyes will hold oceans,
her mouth will be gunfires hitting
the horizon yet
she will scream the white noise
we have listened through air conditioning,
the television static,
the movement of clouds.
When she screams there will be a
clear purple sky that will be ready
to sit and wait for night to conquer it
while on the other side of the world
there is an earthquake,
a natural disaster that embodies
this disaster at its natural state of volume.
Everyone will continue going to school
or to work or to their appointments and you
will be left in a terrace with a body that aches
and a throat that is sore, you will be left with
cigarettes and the same bottle of vodka he mistaken you with.
You will scream again and again
Until the gods listen to a little girl's heartbreak.
You will scream in between stanzas and bitten nails.
You will scream mid sentence.
Until they listen to the same screams that are
left to rot because all they want is your songs.
The singing, the melodic voice that sends men waiting at your feet.
No, the cage bird will wrap her hands
one by one on the bars
and scream until you listen to the fury beneath the friendly.