Waking to a New Year

Listening for Children

Upstairs I rake sounds through floorboards

tweezing the prosthetic ‘a’ to make sense

of chirps below.  My cheeks decipher walls,

a toe tug and time between years.

I count vertebrae,

sink through baklavaian sheets,

sleeping between teenage sounds,

wonder up aisles of half centuries,

while threading chain to sprocket

with bare hands.

RG 1.1.13

Young people sleeping in the studio.  Limited by the trash in the office bin.