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Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

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Ian Caws

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Sound and silence

What we spoke of curled with smoke from a fire
Then disappeared:  the dark night of the soul,
The l.b.w. law and, once more,
What we could do with a charcoal pencil
To an officer from the Arts Council.
That day, we talked because the world was near.

Now I have turned the silence on my thoughts;
Perhaps the world has lost its interest.
I cover my opinions with dust sheets
And you pass through my eye line as if lost.
You will turn in a queue and find me last,
Then look again and see deserted streets.

Who will remember how our files were kept
Or those brilliant things we said at meetings,
Or, in the pub, what feelings we unwrapped,
Our range, how we wove our time with nothings,
Painted work with unofficial coatings,
Adjusted our masks, which frequently slipped?

I keep a few things but walk out the door
Unseen, a few things to look at later;
A few things to wonder on, if I dare -
If nothing else, it will be quieter.
Somewhere, there will be cascading water
And voices I won’t catch, lost in its roar.

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