After an argument I listen hard
to noises in our common house—the ticking
of clocks, the humming of fans, the creaking of floors,
the rumbling of pipes, the ringing of phones, the groaning
of springs, the clacking or clinking of keys, the droning
of television, the drumming of laundry, the clicking
of locks, the tumbling of ice, the squeaking of doors—
all louder once a morning has been marred.
Hours may pass as I interpret sound
by sound—source, frequency, duration. Some
attention goes to silences, which pound
and pound, but not to show where each comes from.
Throughout, peace can be found in knowing you
are also wondering when words are due.

*****

Jane Blanchard writes: “This sonnet from Metes and Bounds was first published in Mezzo Cammin (Summer 2017). It is rather irregular, especially in the octave, but such deviation seems appropriate for the subject, at least to me. This poem is largely a list, yet it has narrative and lyrical elements, too, and the experience described, I hope, is easily perceived.”

A native Virginian, Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia. Her latest collection with Kelsay Books is Metes and Bounds (2023).

Photo: detail of the cover of Metes and Bounds.