Fi-nal-ly.
The jackhammer
stopped.
After 7 1/2 hours
of it P
O
U
N
D
I
N
G
the asphalt
outside our window,
I can hear
the quiet.
It sounds like still,
calm breathing.
The throbbing inside my head
is starting to dull.
The reverberation
is lessening.
The loud quiet
pushed through –
once it was actually allowed to, of course –
until it permeated everything
and became
the only thing here.
I tend to fill the small silences
I do have
with music
or words
conversations
or movies
out of enjoyment
preference
routine
familiarity
or
[insert DSM* diagnosis here].
Now
I am thankful
grateful
to just listen
to the high decibel
stillness
because it won’t be long
until the tick-tocking clock
finds its way in
the dog across the street
barks over it
the high school marching band
drums its way
into every brain cell
and I again forget
what the quiet sounds like.