By: Linda M Crate

you always make love
or argue,
and i hate hearing it all the time
reluctant to call the landlord because i
want to be a good neighbor
my patience is
waning thin;
it’s hard to concentrate on what i need to
when i’m writing and all i can hear
are you two coming together
becoming one—
if it’s not that it’s slamming doors or screaming
children or just arguments that trill louder
than the music i listen to both to
inspire my muse and drown you out,
and i’m just sick of it;
sometimes i want to bask in the beauty of the poetry
that is silence
because sometimes there are too many words to get
out and music only adds to that din
sometimes i want the magic of a silent moment
you never grant me that—
my fury burns brighter than the angriest sun,
and one day i fear i’ll burn you both in it because i
cannot withstand your utter lack of
respect for me;
i try to be kind and do the right thing but
sometimes all i want is for someone to do the same for me—
it seems you never will.