It’s almost as if someone forgot to turn the radio off.
Not in this room
but the one across the hall or down the corridor,
a somewhere that can’t be found
no matter how many corners I check.
The distance turns voices to static,
punctured with partial comments
slipping between floorboard
like strings of mist on summer mornings.
Even if I press my ear to the wallpaper
I still can’t link the lines into one another.
The harder I try
the deeper the crackle in the speakers.
If I busy myself,
turn the dishwasher on,
boil the kettle,
fill the house with the rattle and clatter of things needing to be done,
I might just stand a chance.
A hiccup in the warble leaves a sentence
pressed against my ear,
burrowing its way through
to find the next line
in the dark of the grey matter inside.
All the while the radio continues playing
in a room I cannot find.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
It’s almost as if someone forgot to turn the radio off.
Not in this room
but the one across the hall or down the corridor,
a somewhere that can’t be found
no matter how many corners I check.
The distance turns voices to static,
punctured with partial comments
slipping between floorboard
like strings of mist on summer mornings.
Even if I press my ear to the wallpaper
I still can’t link the lines into one another.
The harder I try
the deeper the crackle in the speakers.
If I busy myself,
turn the dishwasher on,
boil the kettle,
fill the house with the rattle and clatter of things needing to be done,
I might just stand a chance.
A hiccup in the warble leaves a sentence
pressed against my ear,
burrowing its way through
to find the next line
in the dark of the grey matter inside.
All the while the radio continues playing
in a room I cannot find.
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