Sounds Behind the Dark
When alone in a quiet space
still the distant slamming of doors,
or the rattle of castanets
confirm that the world is not shut out
but just moving from room to room,
soon it will burst through paper-thin walls,
skeletons will make love on tin roofs,
harpsichords will rattle amid
the bedsprings of sleep.
The need to be alone even when alone,
hides an even deeper want.
Corridors where the days tramp
echo with a ghostly clamor.
Busy junctions behind closed eyes
erupt where the dead and the living gather
to talk louder than thought.
To be the only listener at the water cooler
or in a crowded auditorium; that is the answer.
Alas when the hall empties,
when the last exit closes behind
the high pitched babble and laughter,
there is still a strident chorus line
of memories stomping echoing boards,
a whooping louder than any voice
anywhere.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
