"just remember how this feels,"
I whispered to the evening's belt.
it hummed in reply,
a mother hushing her child's cries
with century music.

it could have been crafted
by the fingers of glass orchestras.
I let them strum until
the vibrations send earthquakes
rattling buildings like
aristocrat jewels.

this, I knew,
was silence deciding to scream,
a storm finally hawk-winging
its thunder to the world.

I, an unperforated
sheet of old tastes,
I, an empty letter
taped beneath the mattress...

I lifted my life to my earlobe
and waited for the sound.