June 26, 2009

Somewhere in these names
there are mothers and pianists
and priests and beggars
and lawyers and murders
and the best and the worst
of us. Somewhere
in these names there are
men clawing at the gates
and men hiding beneath the bed.
There are women arriving
and leaving,
and in the oceans of thin
black robes and stiff mortar boards,
the only difference from my mezzanine seat
is how the temperature has dropped
as they all hold their breath
at once.