White Noise

White Noise
Mary Alexandra Agner

The rain hasn’t spoken
your name, or anything, loudly,
against the shingles
for hours. The clock strikes
midnight, Westminster
chimes. Time is one
fiction: where you stand
in line it’s 9 PM.
Soup’s gone cold watching
your kitchen chair making
cross-legged shadows. Overhead
lightbulbs echo late night
police sirens, revolving
blue and fear. When
will the airports reopen?
When can you return?

Mary Alexandra Agner writes of dead women, telescopes, and secrets. Her poetry, stories, and nonfiction have appeared in The Cascadia Subduction Zone, Shenandoah, and Sky & Telescope, respectively. She can be found online at http://www.pantoum.org.