The Listener in the Writers’ Circle

Working class effort
he wears a suit
amongst smart casual.

He listens
with no impulse
to tell his story.

It is there
in the hard lines
face etched, and

the hands with
faded blue symbols
homemade – jail made.

He lives alone
save a mouse, sharing
crumbs of solidarity.

The writer can’t fathom
his passive presence –
she likes her mice dead.

She questions him
and his motivation,
whether he belongs.

The writer fails
to read his story
written in body clear.

She forgets that
every writer needs
a listener to care.

© Rowan Taw, 2012, © Dechen Lhamo, 2012


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