A Poem by Olivia Gatwood

Author: Poetry Editor

August 21, 2019

This week, a poem from Olivia Gatwood’s Life of the Party.

If a Girl Screams in the Middle of the Night

and no one is there to hear it

and no one is there to hear it__what happens to the scream?
and no one is there to hear it__if she is in the woods, does it shoot
and no one is there to hear it__from the cannon of her throat
and no one is there to hear it__and smack itself against a branch,
and no one is there to hear it__whip around it like a tetherball?
and no one is there to hear it__if she is face down, in the moss
and no one is there to hear it__does it seep into the pores?
and no one is there to hear it__every time a hiker passes through
and no one is there to hear it__days beyond her unravel
and no one is there to hear it__and steps along the soft, green floor
and no one is there to hear it__will a small howl fan out from beneath his feet?
and no one is there to hear it__if the girl is in the city
and no one is there to hear it__does the scream get lodged
and no one is there to hear it__in a neighbor’s ear, prevent them
and no one is there to hear it__from sleeping at night and so,
and no one is there to hear it__eventually sold to a second-hand store?
and no one is there to hear it__will the neighbor take it
and no one is there to hear it__to the buying counter
and no one is there to hear it__in a jewelry box and say
and no one is there to hear it__i don’t know who this belonged to
and no one is there to hear it__i just found it a burden
and no one is there to hear it__and, as not to startle customers,
and no one is there to hear it__a small label will be placed on the box
and no one is there to hear it__that simply says, A Scream,
and no one is there to hear it__and each time a person cracks it open
and no one is there to hear it__the girl’s rattling tongue will shake loose
and no one is there to hear it__into the store and this happens
and no one is there to hear it__for months but no one wants to buy it,
and no one is there to hear it__to take care of it, everyone wants to hear
and no one is there to hear it__it once to feel something and then go back
and no one is there to hear it__to their quiet homes, so the store throws it
and no one is there to hear it__in a dumpster out back where the garbage
and no one is there to hear it__truck picks it up and smashes it
and no one is there to hear it__beneath its hydraulic fists and the scream
and no one is there to hear it__will get buried in a landfill somewhere
and no one is there to hear it__in New Jersey, and the landfill will be
and no one is there to hear it__coated in grass and a child will call it
and no one is there to hear it__a hill, will throw her body against it
and no one is there to hear it__and shriek the whole way down.

——

OLIVIA GATWOOD is a writer, performer, and educator from Albuquerque, New Mexico. She is the author of the poetry collections New American Best Friend and Life of the Party, and has had her work featured in journals such as Muzzle Magazine, Winter Tangerine, and The Missouri Review. She lives in Santa Cruz, California.