from The Ladder of Divine Ascent

XI. On talkativeness and silence



the words biting


the fig.

Each tossed


sentence a half-

chewed fruit.


None grow.

The mouth is



but never



I eat


the silence and

its consequence.


I keep

my hands folded


at my lap.

There is a list 


of what not to.

I am holier


each time

I do not


touch you.

Dear, sitting


with you

is like Lent.


Lauren Eggert-Crowe has written for Salon, The Rumpus, Ask A Socialist and L.A. Review of Books, and has published poetry in DIAGRAM,, and Water-Stone Review, among others. She is the author of two forthcoming poetry chapbooks: The Exhibit, and In The Songbird Laboratory