National Poetry Day: a contribution

Romb

Sometimes
Just when I’m tucking my eyelids in,
Wrinkling my toes, and
Telling my knees I’ll see them in the morning,
I hear them.
Screams,
Screams from the flat next door.

They start off like the child outside my window.
Falling off her swing
Then they build up and up
Until at last I can hear nothing else.
Not even the silence
Not even the clock thumping of my heart

And then suddenly
It’s quiet
And I fall asleep

One night before it was quiet
I left my bed
Opened my door
To wait and watch the door opposite

And, as I gazed
I saw a small glistening tear
Ooze out of the keyhole.
The screaming stopped.

I have asked the person who lives there
Whether she ever hears anything
She never does
But I have noticed, she never shouts
Or cries
Or screams
And, so she says,
She has never fallen off a swing


July 1980 (revised August 2000)

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I felt moved to add a poem to National Poetry Day...