Mark Mahemoff

The Increasing Silence

At midnight
she woke up
needing shapeless reassurance.
He offered what he had
but she couldn’t accept it.
When he withdrew the offer
she changed her mind.
When he led her back
to the night lit room
and shut the door,
screaming was added
to the streaming tears.
She wanted someone else
but he explained this was impossible.
She sat on her mattress.
He sat on the floor.
She didn’t move.
He didn’t move.
They both allowed
this state to continue.
Potential grew
in the increasing silence.

This Hour

3.00 am.
Squabbling is wafting
from the next apartment block.
A skateboard,
inexplicably,
makes its way down the street.
Where could the rider be going
at this hour?
You’re shifting on a mattress
on the floor
in the lounge room.
You’re waiting for the money to arrive
so you can leave.
And there are always sounds
from next door
or in the distance
and the morning
which turns up
each day
like a chance.

Regardless

It all seems worth it
for that time at 5.00 pm
or 6.00 am,
a bluish mist of light
diffusing through rooms,
a mundane spectacle
calming in its certainty,
its presence
regardless of ours.