Back then, moans
manifested through walls
like copulating ghosts

making morning after
sightings problematic.

I bound myself to my room
until the sounds and subjects
dissipated into the mist
of a Monday morning.

Now, when I hear sounds
through the walls
I remember my own moans
and how they climaxed
into this life
where I am a mother
listening to my child
read himself to sleep.