don’t mind the toll

there is a tolling
just on the outside of my mind

not the clangor of a grand bell
chimed from atop some steeple
with a name like

Ethelred

no no

this is more like
a rhythmic drip
of water
falling from the gutter
of a rooftop
through a downpipe
to plink
when it strikes the bottom
at the drain

no no
it’s not like that

it is the boing-ing
of a spring
slowly uncoiling
keeping cadence
to the unravelling of the bed
beneath me

nono
it’s just a random toll
sounded
altogether vaguely
just
on the outside
of my mind


© Frank Prem, 2017

Poem #26: making home

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2 thoughts on “don’t mind the toll

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