Sew your forked tongues into one and open, fingers clenched and numb. Unwrap your bitter, strangled throats and let the mourning come. Break down the dams that hold us strange to sorrow! Let us knit this thrum of loss into a cradling shroud and let the mourning come. We close our eyes and hold our hands and fall and weep. as we succumb we beat our breasts and rend our skin and let the mourning come. No words–Life’s blush has left these cheeks– No words! a moratorium: Return their loaned souls to the sky and let the mourning come.
Of Loss: a poem in response to the deaths of children