Hair dryer

We cannot find words

to comfort or understand,

I try to explain; that’s not

who I am. But the things I 

said are written in my hand. 

You sit on the floor in front

of a full length mirror and

dry your hair. I sit next door

and the sound makes it there,

as if to say; you did this. 

I can feel you waiting for

an explanation. Through walls,

through noiseless air. I can

feel it; I have none. I search 

excuses or platitudes. 

I wish I was more. You lie 

in an avocado bathtub and wash

in cold water. I sit downstairs 

and the sound doesn’t falter;

it shouts; you did this. 

Why would you understand?

I don’t.