Categories
Poetry

It is: Sound experimentation and poetry

 

It is

It’s the heat
Under the blanket
The truck passing by
The guy talking on the phone
At 6:00 in the morning

It’s the street
The warm smell
The neighbours screaming
And the one who plays the sax

It’s the church
And the bells
1:00 pm, 2:00 pm, 11:30 pm
A child’s laugh

It’s the woman who also talks on the phone
Moaning
Every morning in her bed
Moaning

It’s the broken stair
The walls full of cracks
And the painting fading
I bet it tastes like dark green

When it rains
people look sad
glaring at something
And they are lost

It’s the pharmacy sign
Also dying
The sound is sustained
Like a fly
Reciting her last wishes

It’s the barrio
And we all are trapped here
Are you the one dancing in the living room?
Or is it you who is crying at the door?

cherryland ·

By Cherry Adam

Moody experimentalist.
Hypersensitive & Noir moments
Freelance Journalist