The
Kitchen
Window
Sitting
in
a
broken
metal
chair
by
the
refrigerator
I
can’t
help
but
obey
the
silence
of
the
night.
It
whispers
things
to
me.
Nothing
serious
but
just
calming
sounds.
I
like
to
believe
every
word
but
how
can
I
obey
what
is
not
there?
It
is
a
growing
emptiness
inside
of
me.
Dry
sand
filling
a
put
I
could
never
hope
to
climb
out
of.
But
still
in
the
distance
is
a
gentle
hum.
The
dishes
dangle
reluctantly
chiming
in
their
two
cents.
But
it’s
no
use.
I
went
gentle
into
that
good
night
and
the
hum
became
a
roar.
Why
do
I
listen
to
what
is
never
t