The Old Ladies
who live
on the 1st floor
are silent, quiet
no coughing, no sneezing
no singing, no laughing
no crying, no dancing
nothing,
nothing
but silence
no ringing of the telephone
no cursing, no orating
are they listening to me?
are they listening?
every sound
every cough
every creak
every noise I make
reverberates
through the
80-year-old house…
are they listening
as I recite this poem
into the microphone?
the old ladies,
are they
…listening to my soul?
my dystopian rants?
their silence
attacks my
peace of mind!
May, 2020 (original poem: October 27, 2018)