What the Radio Knew Before I Did

In our kitchen the radio was never off,not out of love for any particular songbut because my mother couldn't trust a silencenot to fill itself with something she'd have to answer.

I grew up thinking a house needed a soundtrackthe way a throat needs air —not for the song, for the proofthat something was still moving through the room.

Now I live alone and leave the radio on for the cat,who doesn't care, who sleeps through everything,and I tell myself that's why,and some nights I even believe it.