The Voice At The Top Of The Stairs

The voice stood at the top of the stairs
and looked down.

I'd like to take a suitcase
and travel loudly,
be heard across the universe;
say things that nobody likes to hear,
even smell, sweat, tire a little, to see
what it is like to have really spoken.
I will not live in a whisper
like all the other voices blowing
over teacups in living rooms.

I may even hurl myself
down these stairs
just to cause a racket,
and possibly break.

Oh no, no, said the stairs -
you are a woman's voice,
such a small voice.
Only for singing,
not for breaking.