lalala

give me a hinge to swing shut on.
this is how you quiet a structure.
no husband singing in his closet no
boys playing Himalayas on the stairs.
at my coaxing the cat inverts his scream--
sends it back down his throat.
everyone, speaking to themselves
inside their mouths. we are blessed
with our own internal living rooms.
my sofa sprawled across my tongue.
a television on mute. infomercial
for a new vacuum. i need more implements.
i want to make a house where 
nothing speaks. not the wind or
pipes or walls. no ghosts dancing
above my head at night. no volumed
parakeets practicing diction
or a brother cradling a bass.
in the basement of my heart
i keep a pair of headphones.
lalala this is where 
i hush-reach & picture tongues
turning into slugs. next time it rains
i'll send my own to the back yard
with the sticky brown leaves.
he will thrive their & take with him
all the chatter chatter 
of a soup-willed boy. i'm pouring out
slowly enough to watch my own fingernails thin.
i'm holding my breath as i 
walk down the hall. letting the sink
croon his last rush. 
in the bathtub, i summon a quiet husband
with a quiet bath bomb.
a lover is never invented 
though often we don't realize
what we've done. i know one day
he'll hate me but tonight i need him
in my muzzled nest. there he goes
singing into soap bubbles.
cover my ear, waiting for them to pop.
is it too much to ask 
for a night of eating 
all language? i want to mean nothing
for once. i slip my husband
down the drain where now
i can still hear him humming.