Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Absences (Leaves, not just of grass II)






No-one’s opened the windows for a year
the air hangs heavy with absences
stuck hinges reinforce the atmosphere
the door swings open as though you are here
but the rooms are hunched empty, and the sun winces.


I wipe sills clean, polish the panes and clear
the leaf-drop of a season, the silences
of sparse urban streetlights, a few austere
threads of cobwebs on a chandelier
and then check once more the smoothness of hinges.

6 comments:

  1. good continuation....i think poetry comes so naturally to u that u can pen a book in your sleep-walk

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    1. Sleeping and walking together not permitted in this life, I'll try in the next one :) :) thanks Ritesh for that warm compliment!

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