Prairie Schooner

When your life depends upon not moving,
I've found, you know more. We squirm within
the grip of houses. We escape into the yard
the way Monday escapes into Tuesday,
and only the luckiest people on earth
have ever done so. The disappointment
of my life? That I haven't turned into a cave.
Ringing, like movement, must be kept away
from me, but my friends want to call me and say
oh no no no. I tell them that so far
they know nothing of themselves, but I do this
nicely, but not answering. The world can
die inside you, girls. Food, your mouth, your husband,
everything tastes different once you learn this.