17183914810_d81091c658_bShe has not answered the door in many years
even when she had a door
even when there was a bell to ring
or wood to pound
she recalls once
feeling as if it were only herself
and the world
miming in pirouette masks back and forth
echoing on either side of a shard of glass
and she cut out that feeling with thin lines
blossoming under the bath
bubbling their way into unconsciousness
until lifted from reddening closure
she could not recognize afterward
thin on blood and holy water
her face in the hallway mirror
though she saw how badly the brass frame
needed polishing
perhaps if I smooth the glass
it will show me as I feel
not the scars and the fear
dancing across with pointed shoes
every year she remained patent
underneath the mossy dander
listening for the interupted caller
watching herself grow in reduction
a vile experiment in self exile
once a color, become ash in circles
for her tongue to lap
words left beneath earth
chanting dieties
and her child
was in a bottle set out to sea
playing mahogany violin
that could be captured by
circling satelites looking
much like stars