Fermez La Porte (Close the Door)

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Who knows what goes on behind closed doors The door to my bedroom remains closed a lot And when I hear the phone ring in the distance I hear a quiet reply that says, "She's sleeping." Momentarily I become conscious again only To roll over and gaze once more at my closed door.

My bedroom door squeaks when it closes and Creeks when it's opened for brief moments When I creep to the bathroom to get a drink Take a pain pill--sit and think about nothing Important beyond my space/only visions of life Before I was sick: a dynamo hummingbird chick The speedo who could out ski everyone she knew And dance the night away with grace & finesse The researcher who loved knowledge & data The gal with the briefcase filled with ideas The woman, the wife, the activist par non
Behind her now are the battles she's won.

And so she retreats to her bed each day at three To strategize how to beat pain here and there As it moves up and down her spine everywhere The door closes tight, the drapes are drawn It's quiet and dark, neither night nor dawn
Somewhere between then and now I lie down.

Mimi Trudeau