sensor

at midnight the thunder claps louder

I am just a sensor, my ears work harder

and I walk faster

til I reach the field, its minimal features

stretched thin, taut like drum skin,

like an animal hunting or hunted.

I am just a sensor, and I tell you

some sort of music was played here once.

I can’t hear it now, none can, but those

lingering notes hang like memory,

a moment before the coming of age

arrived, locked still with that tension

of being apparent in their absence,

the stubborn dust still dancing

to impossible rhythms

until that curtain call of dawn

comes down.

Filed under: Poetry