ISSUE: Summer 2010
Who will plait
your hair, sister,
who will clean the matter
from your eyes,
who will hold your hand
in the shadow?
Who will feed
you slivers of ice,
who will sing hymns,
who will draw near
to hear your whimper,
and hold you, hold you?
Who will remind
you of the child
you were—of the laughter
so pure with hope
before the ashes
and the shadows?