A force of sun cast yellow splinters
past open curtains onto a wooden floor with sharp edges
as they slip up the wall like a
daydreaming spider.
The quiet of the room is loud with silence.
A solid red couch holds the room hostage.
A grand desk, centered with pride,
smoothly carved, decorated with silver;
framed photos stand at military pose.
The fireplace, pregnant with last night’s ashes,
appears homeless without flames or embers.
A black cat asleep on the piano twitches an ear
at something unseen then returns to quiet.
Roger Singer 