DOORS CLOSING

Step forward and scan the ceiling 

for a hatch, 

trapdoor, a way out. Captured, 

we put our trust in films. 

A woman speaks a few words 

in a tired English drawl.

A warning we heed. No hiding. 

A shudder, a tremble, 

and the steel panels close. 

They inhale…The stomach sinks 

and we ascend, counting numbers

through a stack of floors.

We let go of gravity. Out there, 

at the end of a corridor, 

someone is waiting, 

table arranged, view reframed. 

Soon we shall know. 

She speaks again. We step forward

where the patterned carpet 

begins.

Behind us the doors close

with a sigh. Her voice 

is below us and far away.

The carpet is quiet.