roy herndon smith
silly, the child laughs
begin with gobbledygook
catching in the throat
call it a sandwich
or a bandersnatch, silent
howls in head and house
running for the door
opening to the fireflies
flashing, leaves rustling
night breathing the wild
cacophonies of touches
lost mother hushes
father rolling back
down the bank of flowers
into emptiness
flesh slipping stillness
between terrors, holding pain
in the rest of time
dust 