She sobs until the hallway is wet
Blood clots around the Sun in such a way
that it looks like night but,
There is no silver polish or constellation
Only ache anger, and outcry… asking affection
But look!!! THE SUN JUST SLEEPS SOUNDLY. under the racket
Under the blood, under the char, and the fluid of the unborn
He mummifies himself in neutral heat, and chooses to keep his eyelids shut over his rays.
Even while she needs that sunshine to dry up
He is good but, he is dried up
today, tonight, tomorrow in pain.