Livid, it proves
the absence of telepathy,
at least, in conjunction with compassion.
No one could hear
and let it go on:
under stolen blankets
with days dripping into weeks
and patience into panic
and tomorrow wearing white at the corners
from being worn in the same places
drinking only bottled water and
looking for an exit the way
one checks the same places over and over
for missing keys
in case they were right there all along:
stuck through your wrist, perhaps, or jammed
in your eyes.