The Quiet (That Comes After)

The artist waited for applause
He’d long ago given up on money
Cured himself of want

Vanity and greed washed off
He counted virtues on his ribs

There’s silence landing on both feet
He apologized for wasting time
And the quiet that came after
Like chromatography divided
Belonged to many demons all at once

There’s hunger in his patience
Endurance in his empty limbs
And hollow bones
He’s rich in blood and talent

He went home