He Said, She Said

Her hair says the woman is inhabited by wind. Her eyebrows say they are smudges of a lover who leaned too close with his chewed cigar. He says, mind if I ash you a question? She was saying something about their breakup. He said it’s raining and the mail is late. Now the clock is saying something, the birds, the silhouette of trees, the urn on the fireplace mantle, the half-drawn curtains. All of this speech, it’s exhausting, says the flue. It goes in one ear and out the other.