Curtained

Sometimes, while am talking to you,
Silence begins to hum
In my ears like a bee lost,
Like a radio-station gone cranky,
Zero, it screeches
For a long long while.

I think I do not hear you.
I see your lips in motion,
I judge you
Right there,
The intensity of your liquid
Thoughts
Beating against difficult shores.

I say it to you then,
Like many befores
And the numerous
Afterwards,
That come and go,
Shuttling across promises
Of autumnal today
And monsoony tomorrows.

The Eucalyptus is on fire.
I smell its ruins
Somewhere.
At traffic signals
They still carry bare news.

Life is just that Silence
Melting against the walls of the mind,
Where unsaid words
Breed raw menace.