Still Life

In the old-girl, yet
to be taken, a word sits
dust-covered at her heart.

From where she gazes with
blind eyes open, she catches
at its lines and gets its
shadow and light down,

Loosening her frown with
every stroke of luck it is
to be alive -

And the word?

What is it?

A name of a place or person?

"Wouldn't you like to know?"
She silently says with the
crease of her eyes,

And dies.