Guide
5 Guide She led me in among the voiceless things. A long hallway, of course, and locked doors. She asked me to describe their pins and springs. Some glittered, some were bone; others clung to jambs on chains: padlocks of flesh, of coral. She led me quietly, with cunning, and sang tunelessly, asked of the contents and tongues she heard shifting behind the veins of mortar. I asked her what she knew of hidden things. I said, The mechanisms are mystifying, the tumblers keyless: they’re best left unforced. She asked me to describe a latch, a spring. I said, This vault’s old, see the patterning on the lock? A child’s scratchings: a hex to ward off those led in among the voiceless things. And she: It’s just a door, push it, let it spring— how else to know what’s in there so long stored? I let her in among my voiceless things— pins in my hands, I began remembering. ...
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