In the time of Narcissus

The girl looked at the sky,
it stayed away.

Mother moved in circles
with the man from across the street.
Their hands touched light
and steady
while they tripped staccato
their feet.
The girl laughed.

“I’ll bring my clarinet tomorrow,
and we’ll swing the real way.”
“I think I need a shorter dress
to dance like it’s 1920.”

The girl looked at the sky
and felt such hope.

Mother poured coffee
for the man from across the street.
She put her hand on his arm
and smiled
while he shook and sighed
in the chair.
The girl watched.

All through that night,
a small dog cried,
somewhere out in the world.
The girl would wake and hear the sound.

Seen through the dying petals,
no world retains its colour.