When the guards eventually abandoned their posts
this is when, creeping out of overflow,
the words gush forth in a rip current-
coalescing in magnetic links-
weaving white sheets with
brown knots, by her dirty hands;
the escape plan finally hatches
and she knew she would now
let it all out.
Deliberated and free
to mouth the lyrics
all wrong.
She sings them
hums them along
in sweet harmony with self,
knowing all the words
had been mis-taken.
Image of painting by Evelyn De Morgan, Hope in a Prison of Despair (1887) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
_(20392956931).jpg)