you know how it is with the room
the door is frequently locked
as i pass a white sigh
is pushed out from under
as i bend to retrieve it
the wood quivers with a woman's breath
there is a ruffle of crying
through the keyhole i am able
to glimpse a red dress
clawing fingers
then an eye seems to be clambering
towards me over the hard lock
all the time someone is calling my name
sometimes the door is open
i have been inside
there are chairs a table
curtains where you'd expect them to be
the sun on a ladder outside
shining the windows
there is nothing to hide
signs of living but no one is there
just an ordinary room
i prefer it i think
with the door closed
