My forearms are flat
On the table
On either side
Of my bowl of chili

The wind blowing the leaves
And the sirens outside
Are too obvious

(But you have to understand
How constant
Those two sounds are
In the city)

I can hear her sighs
Coming through the open door
Of the bedroom
Across the hall

The dog upstairs
Runs back and forth
But doesn’t bark

The wind sounds like
A rainstick
Full of waves

The kitchen light
Makes a buzzing noise
That I’ve gotten used to

This bowl of chili is so big
I’d have to write for hours
To work up enough
Of an appetite

It’s quiet in a way
That makes that book
The Lightness of Being
Make sense to me
Even though I’ve never read the book

Just me and my chili
And the metal spoon scraping
The bottom of the bowl

There are moments of silence
In suspension

What makes them jarring
Instead of peaceful?

Knowing there are other parts
Of the world
That are loud
Even right now

And parts of my world
That have been loud
In the past

Is it only in contrast
That the silence
Strikes me?

Like the hardest
You could ever hit
A stone statue
With a pillow

The waves wash over
The sirens come for
The dog runs toward

Someone
Somewhere else

June 29, 2021 at 07:18PM