Roadworks and the anxious
Shout of inner voices
Fills all headroom
With concrete 

Absence of noise 
Dissolves the mortar
Pours back the oxygen
Of liquid air 

Thank God
For the negative space
Where thought
Can be born again

The void between
Elbow and torso sculpting the body
The musical rest bearing sound
On its breath

When the pause lasts

Too long

We fidget in fear, yearn for the note 
That signals the next act

Can the negative space
Of a barren confinement
With no end in view
Give us wings?

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