where
are the dresses with
ruffled slips that floated like faery
wings of butterflies and do tell me where
have the blowing leaves gone with autumn
skies so fair almost like foreign questions
teasing minds of old recollections while
they in politely followed having lips
grave in silence of first still
of white and these
crazy

miserable
writes with company
in tight quartered houses
& kids fighting over times to
sleep times to meet a baby
staring owl surely sent by
oddity nothing you'd
quite believe but
neighbors
want to
know
sharing
in conquest
blessings flustered
tittered on a phrase natures
handed down games spring alive
from graves things disappear from
the ice box nobody knows how
still good-nights pray long
for purpose