The Noise (original) (raw)

died so I looked online
and couldn’t believe the price

for a new noise, so I bought
a secondhand noise, deliverable

and like new. The noise arrived
on my windowsill

the next day in a box wrapped
with too much tape. I tore

each layer of the sticky plastic
like unwrapping a bandage.

The noise was delicate
as a small glass

of steam and ash.
The thing I liked most about

the secondhand noise
was how much it deepened

the sensation of walking
through the house

with a newfound
breeze. But I didn’t know

how loud my noise was.
I was breathing

like snoring
while awake.

When my neighbors
complained something heavy

was moving on the other side
of their wall, slamming doors

and knocking tables I got out
my noise, astounded again

by its hovering lightness
and said nothing.