At Noon When Everyone Is Gone Poem by RIC BASTASA

the silence in the office is like the silence of
the catacombs
someone drops a pin and every stone hears it

it is also like the silence of the dormitory
that evening of December 25
when all the lights were turned off
when the prefect was asleep
when what you hear was the buzzing sound of
that old olive green ceiling fan
when what you did was read a novel
that did not interest you anymore

that time you wrote a poem for her.