Labor Day evening

Labor Day evening. Half the house asleep. Sitting in the yellow light of the backroom. The cat licking at her water dish under the desk in the kitchen. Stomach still not settled. Throat soar. Words fall. Days uncomfortable. Art impossible. Subjects weaving in and out. Focus lacking. Labor Day evening. Half the house asleep. The yellow light of the backroom, compact fluorescent light taking its color from the wall and the stained-glass fixture hanging from the ceiling. The cat crunching her food under the desk in the kitchen. The window behind me partially blocked by a sheet from Vaughn's art pad painted with bright animal shapes: red bunny, blue pony, red pig, brown horse, brown cow, yellow chickens, black sheep. The refrigerator hums. KC flips the page of her magazine in the living room. The goddamn cars go by outside like muffled screams. Slouching in my chair, leaning backward into fall, into might as well be silent.