Hunkered in my seat,
the unasked question patters in again.
Do you have room for us?
We ask on the periphery.
We are the ballast in the room.
God sighs. Chairs creak.
I’ve seen wide-eyed silence before.
We make them squirm.
They shrug and squint.
And yet, the asking isn’t owned by anyone.
Underneath the paltry hum…