She got up, alone, at midnight, noiselessly,
afraid of her own steps. She was going
down to the basement to find out what was
all that clatter — from the mice, the spiders,
time, her mind, so that she’d be able to go to sleep?
As she was descending the wind blew out her lamp
and she felt the rising hairs of silence on both her cheeks.
Next day they found her under the stairs where
she had collapsed. She was smiling. She never found out
anything about the noises. She was victorious.