while watching wuthering heights

IT WAS HARDNESS, NOT GENTLENESS THAT KEPT HIM SILENT.

Wuthering Heights, the television on, speaking to her, her not replying,

just like the phone call and the fighting and the

CAN YOU TALK TO THE TREES? Heathcliffe is asking.

Cathy is saying NO. Cathy is screaming I DON'T CARE!

I DON'T CARE! muting the TV, making a microwave dinner,

checking the answering machine, touching her lips,

smearing red across her chin and mouth

handraisedheadtiltedswayingmouthwideopenclutchingforthelightswitch.

the television is on again, mother screaming, husband

covering his ears, child not born, mother dying, child being baptized,

the sound of the neighbor's sprinkler causing growth, forwarding life.

the dog sleeping, no one home, the sky a stubborn blue, waiting.

My love is like foliage in the woods. Time will change it.

Heathcliffe left that night and Cathy cried and cried and cried and

she hates Cathy for that, for her finding no measure of happiness, for living

those Mondays, those developing Tuesdays, the fog burning off and

sudden and perfect blue skies

the phone rings, she buries it under the pillows because

HEATHCLIFFE HAS COME BACK! Cathy is mouthing, grinning,

the microwave beeping, GO AWAY, the ladies in the wide brimmed hats,

strolling, not walking, strolling, I CANNOT, I CANNOT,

YOU WON'T DRIVE ME AWAY AGAIN CATHY

this is a Monday:

someone calling her,

her waiting for someone to call,

and the television is muted and still talking: IT WAS HARDNESS

NOT GENTLENESS THAT KEPT HIM SILENT.