CUL-DE-SAC
They create a machine for vanishing
in the little room he tries to keep tidy
on the side of the house that doesn’t face the morning,
and so his speech grows quiet.
“No one” he says
but the rest is muffled
“no one”—
while outside there is so much city noise,
and by the way what are these distant engines thundering overhead,
are spy-planes flying sorties in a war?
Their monotone holds too long
doesn’t just die out
it’s a passage in the phase of what was hidden becoming visible
it’s a signal,
and it’s no use asking when it started,
was it always emerging?
The task is to recognise the violence in the air.
Back inside, silence is coming
and I wish I knew whether the timeline truly was theirs to control
or if instead it carried on
against their will,
but more than anything I hope that in the silence
someone was waiting
cul-de-sac
POEM 2025
Ivan’s Childhood refilmed
video-grab 2025