You could drop a grand piano
from a fifth story window
and smash the box to bits
but that would also smash the girl.
Nothing living would be left.

You could serenade the box
with music. You could play
Pandora or Spotify.
You could drop the mic
a thousand times.

But I don’t think it can be done
with broken music.

A Prince Edward cigar box.
A pink box of chocolates.
A box from Macy’s lingerie department,
tied with pretty ribbons.
A Nike shoe box.
A box of party balloons, waiting
to rise into the blue sky above
a backyard of children’s voices.
A round box where Mama’s
church hat beats like a wounded heart.

You could take a knife and cut
along the seams, but how would you know
how full she filled it, how close
her skin was to the cardboard
or to the wood?

A crate-like box, like the ones
holding paintings,
holding artifacts, holding ancient
vases and spears.
A crate-like box, like the ones
holding monkeys and tigers.
A box of green emeralds.
A Camel cigarette box.
A safety deposit box.
A solitary confinement box.
A psychopath’s grungy basement
box.

You used to hear her moaning
all the time, but not anymore.
She has grown silent, but
what else has she grown?
Is she nothing more by now
than a lifeless body?
Would she be able
to stand and walk?
Would she be able
to speak?

You could submerge the box
in a pool, a bathtub, a pond
where no one ever goes,
and watch the bubbles rise and break
the surface and pop. Who
would ever know, since no one
has ever seen her?
You could clip crowbars,
chainsaws and circular saws
out of the dictionary
to cut and pry the box open.

But I don’t think it will help
to cut her a different name.

How do you get the girl
out of the box without
putting her into another one?

ANAND PRAHLAD is a professor emeritus in the department of English at the University of Missouri. He has published widely in literary and academic journals, and his books include As Good As Mango, a book of poems; Reggae Wisdom, a study of proverbs in reggae music; and The Secret Life of a Black Aspie, a memoir and winner of the Permafrost Nonfiction Book Prize. His current projects include Once Upon a Time, a mixed genre book of autistic tales; Folklore, Race, Disability and the Imagination, a book of experimental essays, and Borealis, a music CD of original songs. When not writing, or playing music, Prahlad spends his time gardening and doing talks on autism and disability.

Website: https://prahladauthor.com
Instagram, Twitter, Facebook handle: @theanandprahlad