Through the Wall

Just then, from next door,

a bright, sharp sound. A cackle.

Unrestrained. Not polite.

It tore through the thin plaster,

through the hum of my fridge,

and the careful quiet I'd built.

Then muffled gasps, a hiccup,

and a sudden, almost embarrassed, stop.

Like they'd caught themselves in joy's grip

and let it go, too loud.

And I sat here, pen frozen above the page,

listening to the sudden absence.