Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 06, 2026

Pound for Pound

By Mel Trent

Pound for Pound

I buy my words
a penny a pound
the smallest ones
I can find and then
I press them, extracting
the oil that smoothes my
journey through this
iced ether of communication
there isn't room in
my pen or on my tongue
for anything bigger than
this little whisper in
words too faint to
to touch the inward
facing world but I keep
sending my signals
one day something
might answer
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2 Reader Comments
Bernie
08/27/2010
07:09:38 PM
You know Mel I read this early in the week, and it's been stewing in the background all week. It's a haunting image. 'There isn't room...than this little whisper..." Reference 1 Kings 19:11-13. You've nailed the human condition. Good job.
Anonymous
08/28/2010
12:38:17 PM

.

Oh yes !
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