It’s not a question

without the mark: How do we live

with trust in a world that will continue

to betray us. Hear my voice

not lift at the end. How do we trust

when we continue to be betrayed.

For the first time I doubt

we’ll find our way back. But how

can we not. See how the terminal

mark allows a question

to dress as statement and vice versa.

Sometimes if I am quiet and still,

I can hear a small hum inside me,

an appliance left running.

Years ago I thought it was coming

from my bones. The hum

kept me company, and I thought

thank god for bones, for the fidelity

of bones—they’ll be there

until the end and then some.

Now what. How to continue.

I’ve started calling the hum the soul.

Today I have to hold

my breath to hear it. What question

does it keep not asking

and not asking, never changing

its pitch. How do I answer.