the quiet of her

she's layered
in mystery. in non response,
in silky silence,
a cat
on the sill staring out.
you can hardly hear
her breathing.
not a note of her
heart is played.
she could be anywhere.
she could even be
here now, with you, lying
in bed, not asleep,
but thinking
of turning over
to say what you want
to hear.