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Sound

The air conditioner blows
On high
And the sound
Reminds me of small monsters.
A clattering starts
In the other room
And it sounds
Like demons breaking things.
My pencil writes
Against this paper
And I imagine
The quiet racket of shadows.
Every single thing
That any of us know
Makes it’s own sound,
For even silence has a name.

(2013)

Other works by Camille Hollis...



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