by Jeff Martin

there's been ear wax in my ears sealing sounds for seven days
i went to the doctor and they pulled it out with water
the nurse, face affixed of non-shock, swirled the bowl before my eyes
and said, Here's what came out of your ear
and showed me water the color of faded chocolate
with sprinkles of torn up earthworms swimming in the tide

i went home. I could hear the crunch of my car sounds now
the moan of the bannister
the crack of the hallway
the bruising silence
and the swishing of my pants.

i live here alone, but with my cat
i'm getting divorced

across the street a man is screaming at a woman
he's standing in the doorway, i can see him, his bulk outlined in the screen mesh that
keep out
the bugs and life's waxes

he'll hit her
maybe she'll hit him

there is life we should not hear but hear it anyway