and we asked you for help
and you laughed at the candor
and we dropped dead like flies.
bloody t-shirts falling from
clothing lines as clothing pins
litter the floor of the morgue
and parents pick out caskets
ten sizes too small, for dead
babies and children of the
night, the ones who had been hanging
from street lights and shooting stars,
who asked for help in the form
of loud music, slow dancing,
painting in dark colors, tying
red balloons to doorknobs,
and leaving home without layers.
these children, they’re wearing t-shirts
in late december and you’re
wondering why they’re shivering.
in the mean time, you turn your cheek
and lift the zipper of your fur coats.