Perfect Noise is a woman poem, a depiction of the manner in which we choose to express ourselves and on how we must.
Perfect Noise – Woman Poem
My mother perfected noise when my Father lay on the couch napping,
the daily paper heaving in tandem with the clattering of dishes being
hopped into the dishwasher, his snoring amplifying, so she'd screech
her scrubber up and down the grater or bang down a lid on a pot,
seething at his creaking bones, wrawling to the squawling tones of his
angina. When boiling his thinning overalls, she'd run a dripping cloth
across the glass door listening out for rising steam. Outside, her
whistling would bounce off birdsong, never once getting swallowed by
the roar of a passing truck. Come half-past one, Mother would drum
our voices nudging Dad back to clocking in, his smile a chime on
waking. She had little time for cross words or howling vowels,
sometimes, you'd think she was in a songless musical, and yes, she did
love Doris Day and her swagger and sway
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