Mute

The chairs were screaming on the oak.

The silence in the kitchen broke

with every heavy slide.

I peeled the paper from the back.

The adhesive is a sticky track

where all the dust can hide.

The felt is just a pressed-out grey.

It keeps the noise of life away

beneath the wooden feet.

A circle made of hair and grit.

I press the floor and wait for it

to make the room complete.