Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Quiet

when the tv is hushed
and the dryer is done
the kitchen clock keeps time in quartz
and,
above the rustle of my hair on my pillow
above the hum of the ceiling fan in the next room
above the drone of the fridge
above my heart, beating in my ears,
there is
an ocean
drumming out of time
onto the sand

No comments:

Post a Comment