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Read more poems by Jared Carter: Jared Carter Poems at Poetry X.

Somewhere within the murmuring of things
that make no difference—aimlessly playing,
drifting in the wind—a loose door swings,

banging against a wall; the piece of string
that held it shut has blown away.  Delaying,
somewhere within the murmuring of things,

crickets and tree toads pause, listening;
now they go on with their shrill surveying.
Drifting in the wind, a loose door swings

in widening arcs.  Each rusty iron hinge
creaks in a different key: each is decaying,
somewhere within.  The murmuring of things

wells up—the quickening thrum of wings,
the pulsing, intersecting voice swaying,
drifting in the wind.  A loose door swings;

no torch, no adventitious thread brings
meaning to this maze, this endless straying
somewhere within the murmuring of things.
Drifting in the wind, a loose door swings.  

Added: 20 May 2003 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 11:54 PM | Viewed: 12829 times

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