This is necessary

to have silence

or at least muffled noise

a barking dog chained to a tree

the fan stuttering

a woman’s voice in the other room

obscured by television

or static on the radio

there must be earplugs

and doors with locks

solid locks

that can’t be picked

with a hairpin

or a screwdriver

something about writing

makes people want to interrupt

they don’t understand the silence

the tapping of the keys

or the carving sound of a pen eating paper

a fear instinct kicks in

they want to disrupt

to slide between the pen and the page

women will do it with their shirts off

bending at the waist or twirling about

men will flex and bark like animals

the phone will ring

you’ve got to bury it under a pile of laundry

or leave it outside 

in the mailbox

packages will arrive

the doorbell rings

and it all must be ignored

brutally and totally

shut out

as a protective measure

in hopes of 

one more

pile of words

on the page