Giveaway

I try to step light, to ghost past the rug,

for a glass of cold water, or a midnight hug

of a sandwich, maybe, just a quiet bite.

But the house holds its breath in the deep of the night.

And then, just before the kitchen's dark door,

that one goddamn board groans up from the floor.

A drawn-out complaint, a theatrical sigh,

like it's seen every secret I've ever let fly.

A little knot in the wood, or a nail coming loose,

it tattles on me, what's the use?

Wakes up the whole place, or just my own shame.

Some things you can't silence, can't ever quite tame.