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Songs in Another Room
I hear a song in another room.
It croons, muffled through drywall,
Struggling thick in my ears, a clarinet
Leaning, languid, against my eardrum:
The slither of a drying salamander
A tongue's flicker away from water.
Please, bring back your wretched bass.
Quake your apathy through our doors.
Reverberate my anger back into memory.
I can discern your tentative wriggle of the lock
Before you sing the entreating song of my name.
There's a poignant rest, awaiting my part to begin,
And my resolve wavers, imagining relief.
The most tense strings only want to to sing.
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