Runcible Spoon

poetry and prose webzine

Poetry Prose Submissions Contributors Home heart logo Privacy Notice Links Robert Beveridge

   Still Faintly Ringing


The door closes, not

with a click but silent,

handle brought

to rest again by hand

on the other side.

Piercing drone

on the stereo like

radio out of focus.

I pick up Lorri

Jackson's book, muse

on death much too much

for one day, put

it down again,

wander around

the empty apt.


waiting for something—

anything—to happen.