of name untold and pain unsure
in the penultimate hour of the day
a shadow, a murmur, an imprint in the bed
the smallest child next door is dead

The world outside is quiet now
but there is music in the room
sweet mechanical staccato
to the rhythm of machines
a marching tune to depart
in wonder toward the setting stars

is it cold in the water?
were you shadowed by distress?
did your void turn to wonder?
do you hurt any less?

it must have been the current
everybody said
but half the life you spent
you did already dead

wisps of dawn
in rhythmic intervals
trickle down in the dark
flooding the night

woolen dreams damp
heavy on the line
shrinking to half the size
the dress I wear tonight