David Boyle


The night pulsates with sounds you never hear.
They come wafting to me; I taste them on the air;
I feel them ripple down my spine, like
Beethoven playing the piano.
They invade my mind like the street light invades my room.
I feel them one by one, the sounds
of TV channels beating on the roof,
of money sloshing down the wires,
of palpitating adultery on the breeze,
of yearning loves which dare not be,
of stockbrokers asleep dreaming of unicorns,
of abandoned husbands weeping in the park,
of wheezing policemen hurtling towards retirement
of pacemakers like crickets, and
worms taking the long way home.
For me, the bachelor,
with neither vows nor ties,
I hear my small child weeping in the dark,
unborn, unimagined until now.
He calls out to me in the lonely parts of night
and I ache to comfort him into existence.

October 1996

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title: books by David Boyle
Broke Voyages of Discovery Money Matters Blondel's Song Leaves World to Darkness The Little Money Book Funny Money The Tyranny of Numbers