pi & anne

A baby blanket, the animals thereon all faded, starving for the stuff they’re made of    adults. The poplars at the edge wear motionless day's leaves, and none of the horses extend their necks to pluck, to tear. They stretch their necks out of the fabric of 

I think I used to smile as a child,
all will     be well   all all.

The grown-ups say:

        “We have nothing to say because
        there is nothing to say, and if
        there was something to say, then
        we would say it in a different way,
        you don't say things like that, but

        we do, we do,
        we do.”

Listen, the horses are really very pale.

Their choir of skulls intonates a chant about the artificial flower   would you like to carry my waters ? Do you want to be the blanket? Do you want to live amongst us, crying mama how are we today

how is she today how is she today how is she today how is she today how is she today how is she today

the pale bodies on the blanket in the house in the city in the country in the world inside

look at me