Her eyes unfold
upon hearing a voice, low, in the background.
No, now it is two voices,
back and forth ping pong balls on the table,
each player’s paddle struggling for its pound to be heard the loudest.
It crescendos to a halt when the ball bounces
so high that it is nearly lost for a moment,
and slams into the window over the kitchen sink
so hard that it shatters the glass,
every shiny piece on the floor unveiling the flimsy screen that still remains in the frame.
Her mouth unfurls into a small voice

“what is happening?”
No answer.

“Where are you?”
Silence.

“Are you alright down there?”
Soundless.
The players have played themselves out,
yet footsteps still go pitter patter on the linoleum.
Her legs tip toe, tip toe, down the stairs,
she sees the players wounded from battle,
no one picks up the ruins,
they just scoop them in their mental shovel,
pile them into the landfill.