The whole house smells of silence.
The air tastes dull, as grey as dust,
and the rooms are still,
waiting for the clatter of feet
down the stairs – late for school,
for work, for that first date;
there is no laughter in the kitchen:
no clatter of plates, no sizzling hiss
of bacon. No clink of cup
set on saucer. There is no steam,
no rolling boil. There is no
argument about whose turn it is,
no joking, no slamming of doors –
the doors hang as if they’re made of wood,
the windows shine as if they’re made of glass,
the piano’s just another piece of furniture
in a house that’s full of emptiness.
I think you’ll let your fingers wander
over those keys. You’ll find a tune –
some rare old mountain tune, some echo
of a starman’s song, but all the notes you play
will glisten in the air, unmoving,
stilled by silence.
Dwight Roth is hosting at dVerse tonight, and we are considering silence. Shhh…