The Weight of 4B

We only ever traded a nod in the hall,

or the muffled vibration of a voice through the wall.

But the bass from their speakers has gone strangely still,

leaving the air in the corridor heavy and chill.

There’s a rubber band stretched round the handle of brass,

holding the junk mail that we usually let pass.

Glossy pizza coupons are starting to curl,

swollen with humidity in their own little world.

Three days of menus and a local news sheet,

piled like a drift on the carpeted street.

I reached for the knocker, then pulled back my hand,

afraid of the silence I don't understand.