Thursday 31 October 2013

Howl That Dares To Be Different

A howl is like a room – this one large, near empty
and bellowing out in echo – with just the furniture
of its nightmare and scream: the red curtains hung
to a choke, one bed beneath which the darkness is so
deep you have to reach in and find that compulsion,
white utilities to splash on continuing patterns,
doors opening so slow in their groans that time
turns waiting into one long and last heartbeat. Then
the howl. Out of that death comes the cry so loud
it is a hotel of emptied rooms wherein reverberations
will bring the evil of its edifice to the hard ground.

Because in any room there should be the lifeblood of
things like ornaments and mementos, walls to ceiling
packed with things to fully absorb and kill that sound.


Perhaps breaking whatever mystique there might be, this is a 'found' Halloween poem prompted by my misreading last night of a digital advertising board at the televised Real Madrid vs Sevilla game. What I initially read as Howls that dare to be different was actually Hotels that dare to be different. There you go. Error creates.

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