Petra Vergunst – three poems

The Commute

Remember when that road
marked the frayed ends that
strung your day, the music

in that foot-chipped case
that urged you to
slow down in overblown corners
speed up on brass sections

your journey kept pace with the music –
grief, anger, exultation

now, as you are to sell the car, you
find that CD in your dashboard
and shift back a gear

Percussive Silence

She can hear her own breath
echo in his empty room
the clash of his cymbals has softened
no foot to exhale the dust

On the doorstep of the garage
she listens to his rhythm
his head low, the drum’s response
he doesn’t notice her standing there


No room for her, he had said

After the ladies had paid
she cleared up
crumbs, cold coffee
espresso brewed behind the counter

How she wanted to be a princess
head clean-shaven, jeans torn
t-shirts, trainers

Not his taste
her landlord apprehended

She exchanged her apron
for headphones
and left the raging machine
for the ritual drumming
of the Rite of Spring

Petra Vergunst is a freelance community artist, composer and poet currently working on a series of poems about music.