Sounds

 /   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
January/February 2002

By Marley Powell

My iguana cage is silent.
Just two weeks ago it was alive with sounds.
I wish we’d just throw it out.
The other night I heard a helicopter fly over my head.
I hear a lot of helicopters at night when I’m trying to sleep

I was at UCLA and it was late at night and it flew



The answering machine picks up and says I would like

I don’t recognize the voice but I know it has something

I hear my stomach gurgling.
It sounds like a washing machine.
The siren of a police car wakes my cat up.
The sound of a blue jay squawking is stopped by

I wonder if my cat got the bird.
A dog is howling like a werewolf next door.
The thought of that makes me shiver.
I hit my pen against the table like a drumstick.
I’m drumming to “Love Me Do.”
It’s suddenly so quiet.
The French people to the left of us are not home.
The Japanese people to the right are asleep.
I don’t like it.
The only sound I hear is the tap tap tapping of my foot


Paul McCartney’s voice sings in my head.
I can’t believe he can sing so deep and so high at the

Sounds Marley Powell

Marley Powell, 12
Los Angeles, California

About the Author

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