Windows Are Open, Who Is Home

A wailing child somewhere
in the neighborhood. How powerful
that sound becomes when it goes on 
for such a long time.

You would think by now
I’d be immune to the slight panic
it induces, it happens so often.
It’s the kid next door, one house

down the hill from my own. Weather’s
been warm enough these days
that with windows open,
what’s been inside all winter is leaking out.

With my windows open as well?
I wonder if I’ve spread any panic
in the neighborhood with my own 
noisy pain? Even a twinge of nervousness

out there might be validating if I knew of it.
When I look out on the street I can’t see
anyone looking back, cocking one ear to
any sound — even the baby’s gone silent.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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