Once upon a time I used to sashay,
swinging hips to music played to metronome
and caught in empty bowls
by those who wrote the lyrics,
who understood the words
and sang along.
Women shut their windows
against the quiet, for the only noise
they heard was gospel glory voices
raised in praise of silence, sung
in cooling satin deserts, ringing out
in whispered screams.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology