dummy

She doesn’t come here often, go away.
She’s in heaven. She’s in the ice
crisscrossed with stars. Today
because the ceiling cracks,
that’s a part of her breaking
up. I feel like a barometer. You may, too. 

She’s not in the attic
or in the cement. She’s in heaven.
She’s in the ice
crisscrossed with stars. There are lampposts;
there are dark children.
There are no basements.
She broke a step coming up and saw chalk,
debris, darling bulbs.
She wanted to get out of there.

She taught me this song.

Know me your boy-arms to a flying horse
Show me your good side without speaking first
Go down the levee show me your hearse
Your good side, your good side

She went off on a beautiful train.