Poetry

Good afternoon, how

may I help, what can I do

for you today, oh sir, oh madam, oh

leech of my sanity. Strangled

by the curled black cord, tightening

by the hour, squeezing

the voice from my throat.

 

The record begins to skip,

the doll wobbles on her rotating stand,

mouth a sing-songing, singing

techno jumble instead of pretty songs.

The mynah bird’s voice fails.

Annoyed it flies away, ignoring

the deranged bell’s ringing.

 

Poetry

Unwrap

I’m handed a ball-shaped mass of paper.

Glitter bows and silver pen all over.

Sometimes the small things that are inside

count more, you say. Unwrap it. You’ll see.

Wire cage under the paper. Hanging

from the top, five metal balls. Newton’s cradle.

Tick, pass centre, tick.  Like my heart.

Like your heart. Beats passing back and forth.

Momentary silence between them, but

always an answer in the end.

Poetry

The Noise

It rumbles through bones, teeth and jaws

down to the ground, past all six floors.

Shaking the doors, cracking the windows

disturbing old dears absorbed in their bingo.

They try and try to stop The Noise

offering food, books and free toys,

but the little green ball that resides at its core

simply widens its mouths and screeches some more.

Poetry

A message without a bottle

If I listen closely,

I can hear it.

Hear it in the swell,

in the foam,

in the salty droplets that land on my face,

even in the cries of the gulls

beating their white wings overhead.

The strong steady thrum

of distant lands

calling

calling

calling

rippling forever through the depths

like a record on repeat,

going around and around and around

until someone finally hears it

and lifts off the needle.

‘Message received,’

I whisper.