Poems by Keith Nunes

ON THE EDGE

Standing on the precipice
With his back to the cliff
Eyes closed he feels the
Invitation of emptiness,
It’s a gentle, cordial invite,
A vague promise carried on the breeze
Curling around him, a promise that
If he lets himself fall he will
Experience a sensation of heavenly nothingness,
An immersive peacefulness entwined with
Intense excitement,

There’s a light-touch-hand on his chest
Pressing him backwards, then
It’s as though the hand is around his heart
Holding it so he doesn’t have to hold it himself,
He’s weightless, a spirit-form desiring to remove itself
From this redundant body rooted to this tortured earth,
An unfamiliar serenity pours over him like a watery shroud,

He’s tilting, marginally, forward and back,
A slight nudge either way and
A decision is made,
He wants the decision to be unwitting, made by itself for itself
Without conscious thought or effort,
Let it happen,
                        Happen!


IN ASKING FOR SILENCE

Vertical finger at the lips suggesting silence,
Demanding silence?
Is the gesture implicitly forceful, or is there room for playfulness?
Do you choose to ignore the gesture, or
See it as conspiratorial, inclusive?

Are you today the type to be annoyed with a command?
Are you today the type to be humoured by a suggestion?

Does the gender of the person influence your reaction?
What if the fingernail of the finger is chewed down, or if it’s nicely manicured?
If there’s an accompanying shoosh, does that affect the response?

Do you mirror the gesture to show support?
Do you waft a hand across your face dismissing the command?

Do you pantomime tip-toe movements as if displaying your quietness?
Do you exaggerate bullish movements to ridicule and rebel?

Do you sit gingerly, pick up a book?
Do you jump up and down and shout Nirvana lyrics?

Is this a serious moment,
                                          Or is it silly?