silence finds her in the clamour

at the centre table    surrounded by candles    coats    coasters

underwater    breath suspended    beneath the pounding

      the held cadence

            the trees in tempest

                        the late-night blur of ink litter 

                        on a thirsty page

her father’s voice    its 500 mile absence

      the fountain    pigeons

spit and weed

skittering through the departure lounge like a barfly

around holdalls    toddlers

            blue jays shuffling their pompadours 
            from station to station

the fridge’s 2am shudder from sleep 
                    when the last inch of wine sits expectant on the shelf
                        and the apartment is silent
                                    as the underbelly of a waterfall;

and finding silence she whispers to it 

words born to be whispered:
                  huwelijk. takk.

                  ennui. fin.

©

Nathan Beck lives in Amsterdam, though originally from Manchester, UK. He is a designer by day, but writes poetry and fiction in his spare time. Currently undertaking his master’s in cultural analysis, his work has appeared in Expanded Field, Amsterdam Quarterly, Ós Pressan, and Eye Flash (upcoming).