it is darker than midnight,
no lights except the glow
of human heat, the outline
of her hands ripping off the mic

off the tour route, she veers to the caverns,
past the rocks unstable, through the tall
stalagmites, still and arcing like the
ribcage inside her racing chest

it is quiet in the cave they do not
sing over her they do not film her
they do not take pictures and ask
her for favors they are not there

alone for the first time in years,
she takes a breath, it echoes loud
with no bodies there to muffle it,
she can hear herself at last.