The Sound Inside

The room goes dark at half past three,

The world outside just holds its breath.

Then in the quiet, just for me,

It hums its steady song of death.

Or maybe life, I don't know which.

A constant drone, a low machine.

It keeps the silence from a ditch

I'd fall into, unseen.

The milk cartons, the jar of jam,

Glow briefly when I crack the door.

It's just a hum, I tell myself, I am

Just waiting for something more.