I thought I was hearing
the heat coming on
ticking the pipes
but it was a can
of paint
being shaken, it was
a thumb
cocked on a nozzle
before the word
was called into being--
then came the hiss
of breath
and a name.
It was very late
and I was up reading,
alight on the thumb
fly on the wall
and did not call
the cops on the sound.
By Lia Purpura