Saran Wrap

The bulky mass of white noise 
is gently buzzing. 

Tightly woven nothingness, 
I attempt to unravel with confused fingers. 

Under the whirling plastic fan, 
I knit a scarf from purple polyester. 

Row after row of garter stich 
until it’s long enough

to stifle and pad 
the aching places, 
to mute the openness
and dull the intricacies.

I fill the fluorescent waiting room
with hollow gasps
until there is only space 
for ceaseless humming.