The Constant

The fridge stopped its shuddering.

The house fell into a hole of quiet

so deep I could hear the dust settle.

I grabbed the receiver in the dark,

just to see if the world was still plugged in.

That flat, electronic hum—

the sound of a heart that doesn't beat.

The gray, coiled cord wrapped my wrist,

a plastic handcuff tethering me

to a kitchen that forgot my name

the second the lights went out.