I hear it in layers.

Like a wind –

an exhale, unvarying and steady.

 

Sinking into potholes.

Toothy tireless rims.

 

Grinding, thunder, whinnying, skidding.

 

A cacophony of keys, hollow pots banging,

ringing, scraping, hinging, rattling,

an elephant screeching,

whistling amidst cicadas

and marbles being swirled ’round and ’round a metal tin.

 

Shrill and sharp.

A largo tempo.

And a distant memory of amusement park bells.

 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 4/21/2015

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

Have you ever stopped to close your eyes and really listen to a train? I always thought that trains sometimes sound alive, like metal breathing organisms. I wanted to see what I could pluck out from the white noise while on my morning commute, and make sense of it piece by piece. It was an interesting exercise, especially for someone who is hard of hearing.

I like this idea – maybe I’ll revisit this poem later.