by Nathan Furr
Always the dull mutter of appliances,
the fridge or heater dissatisfied, ready
for revolt. The steady swing
of the washer content with its condition
hums on. A hive of wasps,
buzz in the current of the TV.
In the darkness, shadows change
character, turn dangerous.
What about the anger
of hot water squealing in pipes
and the stubborn silence of cold
rising from the floor?
At night, head to pillow
a parade of noise marches
into your ear from your own heart
and in the middle, the creaks
of leaning walls, afraid
of what they old inside themselves.
