feet tucked in,
a toy poodle in my lap, whisper-breathing.
The rhythmic hum of the dishwasher lulls me.
An odd thump here,
a creak there
from feet moving across the upstairs floor.
Water droplets trickle into a drain.
Someone turns on the water
in a second-floor bathroom
and it rushes through the pipes,
reverberates through the walls.
The air-conditioner wakes with a thud,
exhaling cool breath into vents.
A quiet house, alive with noises.
(c) Rebecca J. Gomez