adrift

voices in the hall
start as quiet half-murmurs
grow to something like intimacy
fade slowly until they blend with
the sound of the fluorescent lights
then vanish
leaving only the empty echo
of a vacuum
where they had been

if they had looked in
would their owners have seen
that echo within her
as she sat unmoving
staring into nothing
waiting for something
for nothing
for Godot maybe
for nothing she knows will ever arrive
would they have seen that nothing
in her eyes
behind the soft tear rolling
down her cheek
in her silent shoulders
or heavy arms
would they have seen
in her stare
that the papers before her
spread on her desk
were props
were cartoons
were blank
were as empty as her night mind
would they have seen
if they had looked in
the vacuum
there?

in the silent room
she sits as if frozen
thawed only by the heat
of a bell
that fills the space
and sends her melting


into the rest of the river
flowing out
into the day
where her tears can be
what she knows they are
inevitably
what always results
from the storm:
just more drops of water
adrift in the flood

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