The Silence Strikes Back

The running water is a faint thing,
The tarpaulin waving in the silent wind is oddly quiet,
The hum of the refrigerator is louder;
But inconsequential
As I wait for sleep to drown out the


It mocks my wakefulness
Knowing I pray for it in the chattering morning,
Giving me what I want
Hours too early and yet too late.


Silence at midnight

The silence rings in my ears.


Broken by the grinding of a gate latch,

There is the peculiar growl of a scooter;

Travelling down the brightly lit road.


But my ears ring.


The clanging of pipes.

The warren of homes with

The creaking and cracking of bones.


Nothing stops the ringing;

The midnight hour strikes,