Jean Watermeyer, after C.J. Driver
Sounds in the shower--
water falling inside four walls
constructs, in the corners, noises shaped somehow by
thought, or by the wifi - full of news:
first and always, the stainless steel drain ricochets the cries
of my baby waking and calling for me,
though I know from experience he is still sleeping
and I should know by now the sound is too soft,
a dream of crying that could also be
the shouts of rioters, or weeping;
the electronic sounds of a hospital ward - feet, conversations outside the door
a woman in labour
far away;
the sea; the man who sleeps in the subway and shouts in the street;
the gate opening, though nobody is expected;
a door opened without a key;
rats in the ceiling, mosquitoes in the dark.
I have the taps set just right and I stay,
turning to keep warm,
practiced at ignoring.
Featured on 21 October 2021
First published on my blog: http://dawndrawn.blogspot.com/