Above The Fireplace

It began with a silence no-one could explain.

The silence that makes you touch your necklace

or reach for a jumper, anything that has texture.

It is odd to look for a silence, to look at each of the four walls,

the firepace underneath the desk,

around the corner as far as you can stretch

without moving from exactly where you are sitting.

What will it be follow by? You sit,

a blanket in each hand, look up at a childhood toy

that sits on a shelf, sits on a shelf 

for exactly this moment.