Tuesday, September 10, 2013


I mistake the day for nothing
Moments are like prayer,
Memory still muttering.

All words shimmer earnest, 
fall underfoot where children 
rush and stomp, play, find fun.

Daylight peels itself slowly
from windows and eyes
someone I know says, "hug," 

someone else says "love"
I breathe as though 
for someone far; CPR

I am a daughter of dread
my self-conscious prayers rise
like the breath of those dead.


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