Sounding Out by Ben Nardolilli

The popping sounds of an arthritic set
Of stairs brings knowledge to my ears,
This house is an old house,
        And I am not alone.

Sounds of early morning temptation,
Fingertips of wind rush through leaves
And branches outside, tapping
At windows to tell me to face the cold,

A jet lets out its mating call high above,
It throttles for control of atmosphere,
        It lets me know I am small.

The silence?
                The silence,
Is a sign of peace in this domesticity,
The silence tells me that I am listening.

The bubbling squeak of a young girl,
And the quick machine gun of steps,
Life goes on into the inevitable future,
It does so smiling too.

Doors close, people are free to live
Alone or with one another, I look
And see my own door remains shut.

The train in the distance,
I know that there’s a way out of here.

Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, THEMA, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He has a chapbook, Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained, from Folded Word Press. He blogs at and is looking to publish his first novel.

Bay Laurel  /  Volume 2, Issue 1  /  Spring 2013