the silence is deafening,
right up to the edge of eruption.
thick like sponge
and then suddenly
crisp and sharp,
knife edge thin.
crystal droplets of sound.
one rustle.
two coughs.
chairs scraping.
the rumble of stretching arms,
soft like morning yawns.
knuckles crack.
two coughs.
icicles of pen nibs jolting, jotting
scratching, tapping,
stopping.
stopping.
hovering.
thinking.
willing.
GO!
scratch, scratch.
one head on folded arms.
one pen laid out neatly
across the white virgin plain.
two coughs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the silence is deafening, right up to the edge of eruption. never thought that exam room can have some poetic affinity now that's like scraping the innards of mind to ensure nothing is left behind beautiful sherrie