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she sits on the table
with her feet on the bench
behind the double doors
she turns her head away
behind the doors made of bars
then slides onto the bench
and shuffles cards
on the table
slimmer than spaces
between bars
they frolic
weaving a dance
silk strands of thought
where bars measure the room
define its parameters
cards shine
with incandescent light
from recesses behind
steel-grid covers
the riffled cards
ruffle like a slow
sound across sand
I watch her
with her head turned away
watching the cards
their soft-sand maypole dance
and the strands weave
between us
a final silence

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The following comments are for "a final silence"
by KateLouise

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