Monday, November 27, 2006

The Walls Will Not Shut Up

Poetry Thursday suggests: If walls could talk.

What a horrible idea.

The walls will not shut up today. I fear
I may be going crazy after all.
How can I think, when I can barely hear
myself over the chatter of these walls?

“He said.” “You should.” “They’ll come, but only if.”
“I don’t believe.” “I’ll make amends, I swear.”
The family fight. The gossip. Lover’s tiffs.
These trivia will drive me to despair.

They don’t know any secrets of importance,
no murders, hidden jewels, magic spells,
but babble on about someone’s Aunt Hortense
as if they had no real news to tell—

the trouble is that walls have no discretion
and every word makes an equal impression.

More things walls might say...

I'd like to be painted a different color.
You bang that couch into me one more time, I swear I'll fall on you.
My dear, I never talk to the floor; it's quite beneath me.
How d'you think I'd look with crown molding?
I dream... of being a ceiling.
Really, he's a lightweight; he's not even load-bearing.
She is so lath-and-plaster.
No! Don't shove that bookcase in front of me-- for the love of God, Montresor!

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