Keys turning br rattling in the loose locks br   opening high the doors br that close again br like death-hours coming faster br br the walls are white br and the line of beds is staring br all the bars go up and down br and none of them lead outward br br and leaping eyes br     and stiff limbs br follow the crunch of the keys br br I am powerful now br and I will break those that carry the keys br       with little hammers br small hammers br     which you will make for me br       and hide in the porridge br I will break all their heads br       and lay them in neat rows br     and we shall wave high the keys br     and open wide a million doors br and all of us shall dance in the snow br and that poor woman in the spiral casket br shall warm a wooden doll to her dress br         and lean her hair in the fire br br the grating shall be taken from about the fire br   and the woman and the keys shall go within br     all of us br       shall br         dance br           withinbr br Emily Holmes Colemanbr br