Larkspur

On falling stars,
In weeping feathers,
She howled at life
Or death,

That strangled her
Violently, then
Hymned her to sleep
And left me

An orphan,
Wandering
Wondering
Wailing

Wanting
A moment
A minute
A mile in those shoes.

A rag
To cry into.
Torn ribbons
For the blues


10/4/89