She cannot know the words
she may shout
in her sleep—a sleep
she journeys to alone, 

whether or not
she is alone in a room.
Her cat won’t tell. She can
make it up:  “Please don’t stop 

singing.” Or: “I’m falling
free, please don’t
catch me.” Or: “No, no, no.”
Or: “Yes, yes, yes.” Or, 

she can let it be
a mystery, the cat
slipping into another room,
her arms resting overhead.