Background
by Bruce W. Niedt


Where I live,
in this quiet pocket of
congested civilization,
even on a still night,
windless, moonless
or moon

there is a constant hum,
subliminal roar, a rumble
like blood rushing in the ears,
coagulation of sounds
just over the threshold

traffic, planes, air conditioners,
thunder, music, radio waves,
clouds sliding through thick air,
plates of the earth groaning

and the murmur of souls
only one week removed,
already receding
into the noise.







Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.