A truck growls outside for twenty before

Sleeping through the night.

A garage opens its mouth wide,

Creaking and crying as a sun bear

In quokkas clothing enters through

A suctioned door too weak to keep

A father away.

“Daddy, Daddy!” a baby cries,

And he starts to ask “Hello,

How have you been?” but before

He can finish the quokka cover

Crumbles and the sun bear cannot hide.

“Daddy, Daddy..” the baby cries again,

This time the brute speaks “Where

Is your mother?” A toddler, stiff

And silent, enters the scene.

Toys strewn about a floor, decorating

The rough stones, the cold glass, the musty carpet

Begin to float as they're held by me

The ghost child: silent, invisible,

A flickering candle by the sun bears face as

He yelled. A mother appears, silent, cautious

And he yells. The mother, my mother

She yells back and he leaves the houses mouth

And the truck wakes up, the sun bear gone ‘til the moon would rise

Again.