I hear voices - everywhere
in libraries - books speak to me
tell me stories that are true - untrue
that make me believe - or not
when I walk past churches I hear
confessions - some true - some untrue
they make me laugh - or cry
I was Catholic once - I know
I hear diners reading menus to each other
when I walk past restaurants that are closed
for the night - and chefs coaxing
recipes from unused vegetables
I walk past a cemetery at night
and hear a litany of should haves
could haves - never agains
whispered - so as not to wake the dead
when I'm driving home after work I pass
the courthouse and hear pleas of innocence
accusations - sentencing - long after
everyone has gone home - or to jail
my wife won't speak to me anymore
she writes messages on scraps of paper
not because of voices I hear - everywhere
but because - I don't seem to hear hers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What an absorbing piece of Free Verse. With a delicious denouement at the end. Bravo M'sieur.