I put in the storm windows last week
Sacrificing a few days breeze through the screens
So I wouldn’t have to switch them
After it had gotten too cold.
Now the view out the window is a silent movie
To a sound track of my ticking clock
All summer the sound of traffic
From the major street a block away
Flows through the house like
a river, carrying the sounds of the city
Into my little tributary, drowning the clock’s quiet ticking.
Through the storm windows I can see the traffic
Like a show with the sound turned off
Not even the sound of the rain
makes it through the heavy glass.
The depth of the early evening silence
Sits on my skin, sensate
A blanket, a weight, a touch
too light, too heavy
not quite contemplation
Not quite oppression
I think about sitting here
To the ticking clock
Letting the silence become me
As even the light fades away.

for the OctPoMoWriMo prompt of 10/9: “see” and 10/10 “touch”

8 thoughts on “Sensate

  1. Xan, it is so true how the sounds change with windows open vs. closed and how the sound travels through the house like a river. The ending feels a little discomfiting as being comfortable with silence isn’t something they teach in schools…

  2. I enjoyed how the poem meanders with sharp images, circling back to the narrator’s reflection, perhaps meditation, with that lovely line, ‘the depth of the early evening silence.’

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