Noon
The tall curtains billow
with presences coming and going, impossible
to confirm.
Whispered voices congregate at noon.
Is there any word from the Lord?
Is there any word from the dead?
Is there any word from the dying?
Is there any word from the living?
The curtains rise and fall like wings.
Is the room about to lift off the earth?
Noon is crowded with voices.
Is there any word from the Lord?
You were born speaking the language of the dying:
I want. I need. Not enough.