Disturbing Peace (Based on the film, “Closet Land”)

For her, when the closet dreams again began their terror was that of stillness,
& that stillness the kind of cemeteries. Away, she could rationalize this, say
that the grave coats were only cloth, the narrowing light, only a viewpoint,
& that no one was lowering her, touching her in the down there as her Mama’s friend
used to in the closet after church.

She escaped from her mind’s silence then & she could again now, she terrified
of riding bikes even, she, the ever-cat, slinking with stealth along shadow-filled
corners. She could still wear caution’s cape & with her heart, call out—–
Come, bat with green wings. Come, friends of otherness, the let’s pretend playmates,
& from his grasp I shall be lifted, & from these mothballs I will wash.

Strength then, imagination as Will, & from the re-beginning dreams too,
escape always happened. That’s why when the arrest came, the cattle prods,
the interrogator, she flew as any abused kid would. She flew through the most quiet
landscapes, the most suburban of streets. She flew knowing of their underground
screaming rooms filled with the disappeared, & kept on smiling, like everyone else
wide with terror in the face of a calm far from serene.

This was the rage presented back to the interrogator with dignity’s certain truth,
but would it ever break the cage?