ELEGY
And Wednesday comes
Wearing a sky of ash
On her forehead
Countless pointillist
Pinpricks, raindrops
Are born and die, the
Instant vapor invisible
Canvas on my warm
Windshield as I speak
White thread is wound
Between headstones
To mark the newly bed
In earth’s womb. Who
Will mark the graves
Of living dead?
Who will give them
A hope, a shred?
© 2009 Sophia Pandeya
