Early morning. My closed blinds a soft mix
of shadow and sunlight. I hear outside
a voice I don’t recognize. My ears fix
on its rhythm, volume rise to collide
with a second voice, both speaking at once.
I can’t discern greeting or quarrel, feel
sudden chill, memory of waking, voice
over voice from distant rooms, noise to steal
my serenity, my safety. What’s this?
I’m holding my breath, as if these voices
might shatter the earth. Like when I’d confess
to our parish priest my morbid choices
and impure thoughts. How he’d gasp and revile…
Outside tides of laughter. I breathe deep and smile.
Roger Armbrust
May 9, 2020
