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