The words clitter clatter in a dissonant, discordant, clashing, bashing fashion
falling in disordered, dilapidated heaps in need of a broom to sweep
them into some familiar shape, to batter them into submission
or failing that to hide them in a dank, dark corner out of sight,
sound, hope. They can lie. One on the other – a frisson,
where a tremor within causes vibrations in the musty air
and sounds are formed that cause us to pause and, eventually, listen.
