Fear of Sound
I close my eyes to the sound
of the train, crushing the track.
My heart beats in a strange rhythm
to the shriek of the wind across my face.
The TV comes up with sweet faces,
which voice profanities that embed
into my brains. I live with the
clamorous sound of silence,
whispering inanities every time
Morpheus remembers me.
Every eye is closed
to the dark, but I stare
at the ceiling,
awaiting the murmurs.
Padmini
Krishnan
Padmini
Krishnan is from India and currently resides in Singapore. She writes haiku,
free verse poetry, and short stories. Her works have appeared in Writing in a
Woman's Voice, Under the Basho, Terror House Magazine, CafeLit, and Plum Tree
Tavern among others. Her e-chapbook was recently published in Proletaria.
Tags:
Poetry
documenting trauma is a trauma onto itself, but art and therapy are worthy goals.
ReplyDeleteIt is a fictitious account of trauma suffered by the narrator. Indeed, therapy is a worthy goal. Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
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