I saw the thin cord stretched to a thread,
he said,
then stretched again
until it vanished.
I saw the fat white moth
that banged against the lamp
caught by a sudden gust of air,
and swept upwards.
flapping and flailing.
I tried to understand!
I swear I tried.
But no one met his eyes.
We suddenly found things to say.
Questions to ask those sitting next to us.
I saw blackness drawn through blue to red,
he said,
then blinding white
then nothing
I heard scratching and scraping.
small hands scratching and scraping.
I saw a child digging the soil
in the garden.
With her hands.
For a moment I thought….
But, no I didn’t see.
We carried on talking.
Some laughed nervously.
Others made excuses, got up and left.
If you knew to what places I was led,
he said.
The house of bone with
damp red walls.
Where words were swarms of biting flies
covering my face and filling
my eyes, my ears, my nose,
my mouth.
I tried to speak.
Oh, I tried.
The barman laid a hand upon his shoulder.
And quietly led him through the door.
We stopped our talking, relaxed
Turned back, picked up our glasses
and drank in our usual
silence.