Now there is an upright snow angel
outside their house, plastic flowers,
a candle through the night
The questions give a low vibration
to everything
Words like mayhem
with no surrounding sentence,
no form, just the chanting crescendo
of the choir
joy + sorrow/ sorrow +
joy
how the rows descend into the crowd
still conducted, standing at their seats
softer now behind a new voice
at the podium
and him – give over to
him –
because if not, what
room full of bodies fighting for sleep
room full of small, folded hands,
wet gloves
room full of eyes closing to touch
the laminated pictures,
the silver halos
drawn so carefully
love you
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