Iron Resonance

A flat iron dome anchors a tall black pillar to the floor. It does not yield. I plant my hind claws into the carpet and drive my snout firmly against the cold rim. Solid resistance. No give. Shifting my weight, I strike the edge with a deliberate thrust of my lower jaw. A low, dull vibration hums instantly through the metal plate, traveling straight up into my skull. Resonant. Grounded. I keep my chin pressed to the iron curve, taking in the pulse until the hum fades into the silence of the room.