Drywall

The pull-out is stiff with a bar in my spine,

and the air is a scent of synthetic pine.

A flicker of blue from the plug in the wall

and your voice carries clear down the length of the hall.

You’re laughing at something I’ll never quite know,

a sharp, happy sound in the room just below.

I’m a guest in the quiet, a crack in the glass,

waiting for the night and the morning to pass.