Rattle

There’s a rattle in me,

I lie low, tread lightly.

From the cave

where I’m most hollow,

from the time

where I was broken,

silenced then walled up.

Inside the fragments wandered, 

bent like beaters

through the heart 

of all my forests.

Night and day the rattle

pulls me from my dreams,

to storm my quiet places.

Those broken pieces,

how they rattle.

I must not shake

this snare drum hail,

this endless clatter.

Don’t tell me to concentrate

or ask me to dance.

To risk it growing louder,

madder, then you’ll hear it

and you’ll know.

You’ll know about my rattle.

I’m not disturbed

it’s just my rattle,

jarring all the while,

keeping me from

constellations,

destinations far and wide. 

I’m not alone

I’m with my rattle.