The Orchestra of Tremors

The earthquake begins suspended

between plate and fault, below

us now the incubation of disaster.

When the first wave beats

against boiling earth, I will scramble

to find you amongst the mad rush. 

But when the first wall gives

way, the depth of sound

transforms into a realization of silence.

Screaming your name is negated

by the screaming of other names,

of love multiplied in separation.

To be rendered deaf follows

the pattern of searching and longing,

when voice refutes voice refutes voice.

If ever through the rubble we follow

the patterns of your hand pushing

through the earth, we will ponder

 silence.

When the world pulls apart its own skin,

you and I will learn the negotiations of sound.