The noise beyond

I am left alone. Like 
this. Leaning against. Something
I can’t quite make out.
It is incomplete. Of that
I am sure. A half-remembered 
painting perhaps. Perhaps
a painting half-finished
& the memory is complete.

*

Birds, the crowd from
the sports ground 
down below. Noise 
outside silence. It 
is that here. It is more
besides. Noise is 

only one wall.

*

This part of the afternoon is an elongated line that somebody has left dangling in the air to 
tempt me.
                   
*

Spiders & poets
both have webs to 
catch their prey. 

One spins silk 
around them. The 
other tries to.