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SHE CANT SING ANYMORE She doesn’t comb her hair Wears black shawls with foot long fringe Swinging Opens the dumpster for scraps of life To convince her of reality I wonder about her sanity Relish the glimpse I have of her childish abandon Linger when she arrives to inspect my recyclables Wish I were her for a day She dances at midnight alone Beneath the streetlights Mothlike Fluttering in a soft black shawl Muttering The words to an unknown song I wish I knew her better Wish I knew that tune She walks in the heat of the day Wrapped in layers of wool Looking for something or someone And I can’t stop wondering Who she was and what she did Before her song Became a toneless humming By Sheryl McCurdy |
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