then the voices

you could find her
predawn by
the old covered
bridge

she moved like a shadow
conceived

in the less than

light

a world of silence
in her head

overtook you by the duck pond
in the lily pad bed

the light
then traversed
the sky

only the pond
remained dark with her

holding her
and the night

then the voices
began to bubble
anaerobic from the depths

the cry to stop
then the aeroplane
the cry for help

an orchestra of crickets
picked up where
they left
off

you can find her
predawn by
the old covered
bridge

that’s where she died
where she
lives

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