Equation of Mourning

By
Invent of whispers gray brought in many lights
In many nights…
Snow on churned earth mingled with her memory
In late wrinkled hours
Black eyed bird with blue eyed girls dancing on white then
Down, down, down a cemetery monger to the
Tragic mother, crying to waste the party. She
Don’t know why, don’t know why.
Fingers cross—crisscross to play
Hopscotch in the nothing meadow
Jump the marble stone with inscript
In black mourn dress lace to say good bye
Brother, goodbye, in uniformed guilt
Bullet imbedded sleepers
Their tragic mothers weeping in mud
Now your own, on her knees
Prays a witless freedom to a lost soul
And her belief is frayed into your nails
Blackened, unkempt in a life
Now wished had again.





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