12 Seconds
Feb 14 2008


12 seconds is a long time on the radio.
“Dead air”, it’s called,
as if a careless breath
could asphyxiate the unsuspecting listener.

It makes you pay attention, fast.
Your ears perk-up, you’re fiddling with the switch.
Then you find yourself alertly listening-in,
immersed in unexpected silence.
And then you find silence doesn’t exist, after all;
replaced by faint forgotten sounds
that surprise and delight you.

You imagine half-open mouths
searching for words.
And technicians, frantic, rapping on the glass.
And an eternity of beating hearts,
waiting expectantly.
12 seconds, when a guest
(some earnest academic, no doubt)
paused to order his thoughts
— long enough for panic.

But I enjoyed the silence;
the way a long luxurious stretch
or a slow deep breath
feels like throwing myself wide open.

Even on the radio,
too much talk
starts sounding like desperation.
So I breathe-in again,
and flick it off.