Beyond those walls
all is soft,
quiet.
Itching for me to break it.
Close quarters click-clack
shoe-tile relationships
broken with each leg-lift step.
Solitary sniffle-sneeze.
Everything whispered.
Thick wood conceals classes,
keeping me here.
Trapped.
I reach the walls and fizzle out.
Waves colliding with silence
to break free from barriers.
Intake air-sound-breath-slips
try again.
My human keepers won’t release me.
But then,
one hand reaches
cold metal handle turns.
Escape!
Sudden flood of too many voices
Loud-listening, head-banging rattling
unbridled chords setting me and my kind
loose into the hallway, letting their words go, freely.
Spilling out on the floor and filling it.
A spoken fog on the ground
unable to seek that silence.
Desks mooing against ear-drum-peace.
Loud laughter of men
forgetting there are still other classes,
women conversing on cell-phones
about things they think no one else
can hear.
The death of my nemesis is brief,
as the humans herd my kind
out the various exit doors.
One or two of us linger, dripping from mouths
with no volume control,
Sinking-ship-of-sound disappears
below the beige-sepian tile.
And hides again
behind closed doors.
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