She cries in her bathetic voice, "Bless you,
Bless you". Her cut up hands attached to a body
Floating through a crashed solar system,
The spirit choked from her throat.

I am paralyzed; drinking life from
A jewel-encrusted chalice, but I
Continue to sit here without a sound.
I can not, not do--nothing.

Silver years, frightening years,
Months without light or noise.
I sit and wait for solitude. It is
Nothing nothing nothing.

I am a compound for future generations,
Let them know how to be free. To know
It began with his mocking, squawking
sand paper heart. He made me whisper--nothing.

Clam, calm, cool lass now,
A woman walks into the room,
finding my hollow tomb. Break
Me out of my misery, dressed in my best suit.
I am a poor girl.