She cups the soaked satin sheets,
watches the light of a closing door
slam black, now a long line of water
sings from behind the wood. She thinks
about what was before: darkness
blessed by silence, wanderings,
cries into an empty auditorium
occupied by a flung dress and a tipped chair.
She feels empty, twice.
Held still like a threatened spine
watching his form move across the stage,
mumble at the bulbous doorknob
and disappear into a cloud of lanterns
that confuse and scare her. Blankets
warmth envelop her in a velvet twilight;
she sighs--
wrapping the rich lifeless folds
into brawny arms and fingers,
a deep cloth voice
images of soft force, weighty mountains
words...just...words--
soft touching breaths that speak unheard.
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