Oh Woman Who Looks Like Blanche

Every word said
contains the signal
to grant immediate access.
That's why the words
flow so quickly and

fill the room.
Common to close eyes,
open mouths and voice
about the things of the day
and the personas of far away.

But not you with your
long lacey dresses from another time,
bones of your throat
already sticking out with
eyes embedded in age
and silence.

You haven't got
the keys or have cast them away
even when the door is open.
Why do I want to know who you are?
Why do I think I can save you?