late night noises: a poem

the screeching of car tires but no crash afterward.

two engines revving, then racing down empty streets.
the sounds faint, then loud, then faint again.

a collapse in the backyard but no one’s there.

a loud bang in the house that sets the dogs off.

rapid sounds that make you wonder if they’re gunshots.

the dogs scratching themselves and licking their paws.

the crash of the screen door slamming shut.

wind whistling through an open window.

a freight train horn blast in the pitch black dark.

the chime of security cameras as a cat passes by in the yard.

the chirp of a nearly dead smoke detector.

a notification on my phone.

the ringing in my ears when everything else goes quiet
and the tinnitus hums.

my wife’s breathing in the bed next to me.

and when it finally all dies down, I can hear myself think.

###

This is a poem from my book bearing the burden of existence, available on Amazon.