Draught

The tone of her voice
Crumbling like a dry dumpling
In the breeze through the kitchen
The crumbs circling
Around the flat electric hob

The window propped up
With a fork from the drawer
And the door swaying freely
In the freely flowing air
Transporting the neighbours clanking
And the whining of the dog

The rattling and tapping
Of the blind puller on the glaze