Silence Speaks


I see the twitch in the net-curtains again this morning,
the neighbour, unknown, nameless to meet, busies himself
with morning papers, pastries, the steam of the iron is clear
to me now; no more so remote than the long tails alighting
the telephone pole – chattering to themselves several hymns thick,
dowsing the street below with a harmonious clink, a harmonious
clatter.

Mr. Unknown unfolds the news, unaware.
Not a penchant for watching, more of a hobby of sorts,
politer than stalking, perhaps even talking to his cheeks,
like so many people do when they’re not really
listening.

Never to meet him past the bakery stand; even in June when
loaves are at their most swollen, the rye and the blueberry jam
(half and inch thick), like a pleasant curd, a winding curb
children enjoy driving their oxblood mouths around,
pale fingers, all smiles, sticky, sticky; sticky.

Across the road, my nameless venture exposes a tooth,
then a tongue. But rather than the red you’d so come to expect,
that dental room exposes its palatable secret;
as white as his eyes – of course, of course,

blind as anything, clumsy, hungry, human; afraid.

© Eve Redwater 2012

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14 thoughts on “Silence Speaks

  1. chattering to themselves several hymns thick
    Brilliant line!
    I’m a little puzzled by the ending. I’m probably just dense this evening. It’s late here. The poem as a whole is filled with images and details that dance in the mind. There seems to be two characters in the poem, a squirrel and a human. Both of them related–at least in behavior. Or am I just missing the whole poem? I hope not.

    • Thank you Thomas, I’m glad that you like it!

      There’s no squirrel I’m afraid, just the one narrator and a few birds here and there. I find it immensely intriguing that you though that though! 😀

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