Down the hall
voices–
murmurs words of whispered
conversations
I can’t quite hear.
The house is supposed to be
empty,
so I stalk the sound
searching for chatty intruders
their sibilant sussurance
strangely assured for the late hour
and their uninvited status.
In the bathroom,
it comes clear:
the toilet’s talking
to itself.
Shawn L. Bird 