Some Sounds Remind of Knuckles Cracking

Clatter claws cascade downward into listening drums. Pigeons are the worst. Rose bushes sit quietly all summer then only after they have lost their heads do they scratch and squark nightly. Toilets that are not in your home haunt and taunt. Dry joints crunch down - listening synovial cartilages stick shift and slip out of gear. There is the jack-hammer juggling of junk mail as it flaps its paper wings and falls untidily. Sometimes dreams climb over the hedgerow, clamber up a back wall, and then hollow bones play upon the rooftop - deranged harpsichords goad a hungry moon to howl for something dead. Knuckles crack under a sheer cliff of silence.