The Call

The call burst into the room
sweet but shrill, brought me
outdoors into naked air,
washed down space, the door
clicked shut by itself and left
me afraid to listen. The cry
all around me—all around?
Houses sprang up, fitted with
locked doors just like mine,
blocked vision wherever it looked,
leaned into height, said nothing
to my question. I ran in my mind
on hobbled feet, rabbit-dodging
into blind doorways, no one
returned my hand touch, always the
terrible conclusion of the song,
far from the country of my tongue,
not even notes I could live with.