Her Son

Silence permeates the room

Doing everything in silence

It is quiet

Rain or a pin

They all drop

In silence



Placing clothes

On the body

As cold

Falls like a blanket

A hand

Descends out of the dark

Reaching for the shoulder

Its warm

And the ice at the feet

Is cold in comparison

The hand

Pulls at the shoulder

Pushing the body

In a warm light

It has a body

That hand

It looks down

With its eyes


Brown eyes

It tsks

And turns the silent body

Around and around

Yanking the feet

Slowly out of the ice

Dressing it up

And making it look

Like her own child

Making that cold body

Become her own child

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