Last Sunday morning our house was silent.
Even the fork on top of two plates on top of a bowl
on top of the stainless steel bench couldn't stop it.
It was silent at our house.
Two Daddy-long-legs waved their limbs at each other
across the vast white ceiling of our bedroom and tried to speak
but they couldn't bring themselves to do it.
Even the baby was silent.
I curled myself around her, and you curled yourself around me
and you two slept on curving together in the bed like
the perfect interlocutions of the baby's ear.
Only I was so excited that I wanted to shout out loud -
It's silent at our house!
Carol Millner was born in New Zealand but now lives in Perth. I met her there while I was over in WA for the poetry festival, and found we had quite a bit in common. Both born in NZ, both with a background in theatre. I like the 'domestic sublime' of this poem.