Inferences at Bedtime

Faucet water from the iron sink
scalds and freezes lather
from the stripped skin of my face.

A rhythmic cry, a half-sung growl
sound a cacophony of wrath or foreplay
down among the cinder blocks.

In the dark I balance on the toilet
and breathe the clean chemical smell
of snow through the rusted screen.

A cat shadows through the yard.
On the other side of the bathroom wall,
the neighbors’ voices sharpen.