She lived in a cupboard under the stars
Crouched and curled, laid out like the twisting Milky Way
Twinkling and breathing and playfully sighing to herself
Her fingers drew clouds in the rotting wood
And knew all of their names
She passed the time by piercing holes in the sky
And seducing the moon with whispers, epithets and subtle gestures
She drew secrets from passing birds
Teasing them out like threadworms
Softly winding them around her hair
Putting them to her ear to listen
Before swallowing each morsel
Drawing her hands down on to her lap
Unpicking her scars
To find a hiding place
For 12 years she remained there
Until there came a voice at the door