Melamine

Winter’s meteor-bright early hours

Are also quiet

And I never considered

Snow absorbing sound

And it does

And it is exceptionally quiet

Cosmic matter pattering down like fern leaves;

***

Ferris wheel designs in miniature and varying degrees of wet weight

Stilling the noises of the earth,

All of which, we’re told, “…groans under the weight of sin”

***

And now, here, a few border disputes later,

I wander the north side of Chicago all through the refugee night

Noting the reflection of the moon (an amoral orb, does not groan under the weight of anything) On the white, quiet, dusted ground;

***

Melamine — the walls in recording booths, the absorbent foam

It might fall from the sky

During the cold months,

And land in perfect anechoic arrangements

Suffering to contain the melody of all that heavy sin

The world didn’t, perhaps, need saving, just proofing

Just silence

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