The Pause: A Poem by Vin Maskell

The Pause

Upon arriving
at the beach house by the forest –
a sanctuary
for half a century –
he drapes a threadbare tea-towel
over the large clock
that hangs above the laminate table
in the same-old comfy kitchen
with its ageing linoleum
held together in some places by gaffer tape.

Pretending to pause time
if just for the duration.

But what of the beach
five hundred metres down the gravel road?
Does every grain of sand
hear the tick?
Every drop of water the tock?

And the forest, the bush?
The gum trees and their trunks
the bark and the branches
the leaves, the twigs
the roots splitting the earth
like cracks on sunburnt skin.

Inside this house, this haven
this museum
ants fall mortally
from the beams
onto the carpet,
pepper amidst
the salt of the weave.

Upon the leaking tin roof
possums or somesuch
thump and thud now and then.

Reverie over –
measure it as a few days
if you must –
he removes the tea-towel
draws the fading curtains
locks the doors
drives away
already anticipating
the next timeless time
while watching
the house
the forest
the beach
inevitably
recede via
the rear-view mirror.

Vin Maskell

Website

Vin Maskell is from Australia and runs the fabulous site and music-lit concert series Stereo Stories.