2 June 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 2
Missing
We're still waiting,
less radiant, less sure.
It grows dark. We light candles.
Cousins, strange in serious suits,
fold their hands on their laps
and sing old, familiar songs.
Sleep
Sleep
the grass is growing
and a single bird tests the air
reminding us today is all there is.
Sleep
Sleep
The grass is growing
and the well's not deep enough
to drown the moon.
Light condenses