When the empty apartment laughed at my movement,
and the silent whir of the fan moved
through the dusty, muffled air,

and when the blank page mocked my twirling pen,
and my half-empty coffee cup cooled
in the lingering light,

then the great shadow fell across my heart,
and my naked soul shivered in the shade
of my own guilt and shame.

These four walls, with their banal malice, hold
in place a room of my own. But, like
Laura and April and (maybe) Virginia,
I long to fly free.