Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Monday, again

The sky pelts raindrops at the galvanized roof
One right after the other
His voice early this morning sets my face
I close my eyes and lay still
Is she well, will she eat, what will she eat
Will she live past one more scream
Better than having nothing
Quiet is a woman in a black shroud
A spoon clanks against a cup
It's the blue one, I'm sure
He's making tea, one for her too please
A whistling sparrow lost in flight
Her mumbles to him fall faint at my closed door
Nothing now but mute shouts
I think it's safe