Contraband

I memorised this house’s percussion Before I learned to speak Survival dictated it My bedroom door doesn’t lock None of them do A house of false privacy Where boundaries exist only in theory So I learned to barricade myself with silence instead To make myself so quiet that they forget I’m here To breathe so softly that the air around me remains undisturbed I became a ghost in my own home long before I learned to detach The walls are thin enough that voices carry But thick enough that words get muffled Just the tone remains Sharp Accusatory Defensive Pleading A symphony of dysfunction in four-part disharmony I press my ear against the cool plaster sometimes To feel the vibrations Anger has a particular frequency It rattles your molars if you press your jaw to the wall just right A house full of translators for people standing three feet apart

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Sorelle

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