Metanoia

At the SLAM

At the SLAM

words
jumble in the air

jump out.

I try to grasp with ear
the frantic note
of fear; the soft
sentence sinking
below the speed
of sound; the barking
laughter of the crowd
signals words I

strain

to

hear,

which almost
meet my ear;
Shooting past
my face; caught in
conversation
taking place
behind my shoulder;
ignoring words
clearly spoken,

jumbled air
interferes, intrudes,
replaces

words

with porous
prattling
noise.