Saturday, February 23, 2008


all the humid night the fan squeaks like a blowfly in a jar or a distant corella calling in flight

morning comes and the ceiling timbers are the first thing i see their joints discontinuous as lines of morse code or a transcript of the faltering conversation of people who do not yet know each other

above my head the boards are easing apart to release dark beginnings small falls of webby dust depositions of previous lives old memories others’ voices and dream utterances sifting down into the room

outside a neighbour child plays with a mock-growling dog a cell phone chirps and a crow asserts its right to the clothes hoist

and daylight colours-in the room as you swim up through waves of sleep and into my arms

a room full of words
among book islands
our easy silence

by Ynes Sanz
Brisbane, Queensland, Australia
first published in talking poetry blues, 2006

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