Silence Surrendering, Pt II

A Poem by C. Townsen

dreams, dreams, dreams...

In the black house, the shadows came to play
Violins and musical saws,
All the sweetness of nails scraping a blackboard,
All the solidity of ghosts.

Violins and musical saws,
Broken with the rhythmical pounding
Of hammers on harpsichords,
All the stickiness of summers gone past,
All the heat of a burning midnight.

Broken with the rhythmical pounding
Of long burnt-out pulses
From the heartstrings strung through harps
All the sorrow of a long-lost lover embedded in song,
All the frenzies of the sea.

Of long burnt-out pulses
Do the stories claim to have heard;
The song of a Siren entwined throughout
All the wistfulness of an empty romance,
All the remnants of a broken heart.

Do the stories claim to have heard
The song of flame as it consumed the Black House?
The whisperings of fate in the embers?
Consumed in the music, the harpsichord played on with
All the riotous noise of the forgotten,
All the silence of surrender.