To the canary trapped inside a cave,
the puzzle is the cage-

If she’d name the walls aloud,
she would soon trace her way out,

but she won’t. She’ll whisper
secrets subtly-

Implications, questions,
doubts that are mere formalities-

Until she gets a breath to sing;
Then, she’ll map the maze

for whatever gaze had lain
in wait to meet hers,

so that she could turn,
to have, even,

mere whispers understood.