We Hear it Too

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Ten Minutes

somewhere beneath the blare of sirens the rumble of traffic intermittent, but always there leaves rustle in a gentle wind and that couple argues in the alleyway. we wake up to the too-loud buzz of the fridge water rattling old pipes planes ripping through the atmosphere we wake up, with resistance our hands still dirty clothes slung on the floor the mattress sunken in but the birds still chirp, hungrily and we hear it, as if for the first time we hear it, as if it weren’t always there. then…read more