So many sounds

Are just illusions

We’re good at delusions

Ascribing this to that

Cautious as diplomats

Naming things not what they are but

Something else instead

I thought I heard the wind one day

It wasn’t the wind at all

It was just the trees protesting

Clinging tight before the fall

What’s the sound of a heart being broken

Is it a cry in the night or a sob in the dark

A slam of a door, or a catch in your throat

What’s the sound of passion

Rub of skin on skin

Shh, shh, someone might hear

Intake of breath in your ear

So near

Impatience sounds like fingers drumming on a tabletop

Torture begins with nails on a chalkboard

Ends with a choked wail

Happiness is children splashing in a swimming hole

Shrieking in delight

Mystery shrouds a foghorn’s moan

Or a train’s long whistle in the night

Applause means appreciation

Where did that begin

Who thought that slapping palms together

Should declare approbation

And why, when we’re asleep and dead to the world

Virtually deaf

Why do we say we sleep soundly

Even as our snores resound around the room



David Trudel  ©  2012

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “Soundly

  1. David, this is brilliant. I especially like skin on skin and impatience sounding like drumming fingers.

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