This room is full of ears
unseen hidden but
their aural white noise hiss
strokes my face in anticipation
begging me for a word
I speak
Friend
the offering is rolled
into corduroy rhythms
pitching and yawing
for all its worth, tossed
through a silent maelstrom
drowned within a counterfeit buzz
a further contact
velvet now
and the room breathes
Enter
© Graham Sherwood 02/2016
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