The Infinitesimal Symphony-David Sarao
The Infinitesimal Symphony
By David Sarao
I perch upon an orifice,
one leg dangling carelessly
over the maw below
I view the scene with eyes drawn
down the brick-gullet
of decayed buildings,
down to sun-baked pavement.
I see an old man; aged specimen
slowly drying
with dust and neglect.
He’s shunned; frayed suit
a leper’s cloak, avoided
without thought.
A barrier exists, as surely
as if he were under glass
A bird’s nest lies directly across
from my vantage point.
The little chick’s head bobs
to a primal beat.
I imagine his cries of
‘cheep, cheep!’ for food.
I can see his brother lying
small and cold on the sidewalk,
pushed out by evolution.
I watch a girl wound in a sari
all purple with blue flowers
swaying sinuously in her breeze.
By the set of her shoulders
and the tilt of her chin,
you can tell she knows
where she is going
A hand on my shoulder
presses breath from held-in lungs,
a shout of outrage that I’ll never
know if an old man looked up,
if a mother came home,
or where the flowers go.
Copyright C. 2008 David Sarao