Murali Sivaramakrishnan

The Poet’s Room

All things remain unsaid till he leaves the room.
Now the parrot takes off from the low hanging branch just
Outside the window; there were three—only a whir of wings
To confirm the exit. The saying begins at first a faint murmur
A few unwritten pages fly about; one book lies open on
Page ninety nine; the opposite wall registers a few
Blank spaces while the computer screen flashes
One lake scene dark then bright then dark again
To save the screen from becoming extinct. What has
Happened to the words unsaved on the scrolling screen? Only the mouse is alive.
Rain. Black and treaklish. Fungi-like the fish stick to the pool’s
Silent bottom. A child peers from round the bend in the night street
And starts to walk backwards slithering its wet arms across
The dumb walls. All things remain unsaid till he leaves the road.
Then the loud bark of street dogs and the patter of the rain



This poem appears in my Earth Signs (2006)

Poem Submitted: Friday, November 4, 2011

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