Silent home disco Stephanie Powell Bone yearning for nothing but silence and strong tea. I take three minutes to shave each leg in the shower The contents of the house mined for a still-life. I take three steps to the door and stop to inspect a lightbulb Colours, curves, and erotic softness studied in household appliances, houseplants. I audit the cutlery, count three of every spoon, fork, and knife The TV on, sound muted how quietly this house perseveres. Three thumps between the walls as the hot water lags then kicks in The strips of venetian blinds kissing shut the noise of sunlight. The clock shows three pm/am, flipping over like an egg never served up An unanswered phone; ringtone a song performed for just me.
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