She passes windows in the dark,
The long buildings stretching like elastic
Along the dim street,
Lit only by sallow, unsure lamps.
Oremus...
Her feet crush bits of glass
Left after the accident.
Autumn leaves lay dead and staring
Against the curb,
Their red bellies turned up
To the chilly air,
Which whips and stirs and resurrects them,
Sending them crashing into each other,
Before letting them fall again
To die their thousandth death.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine
She stands before the familiar corner house,
The bright blue of her childhood
Long since relinquished
To a stark, mournful gray.
Et lux perpetua luceat eis
It stands empty and desolate as she passes,
And she wishes she had seen
Some sign of life -
A book on a windowsill,
Or a green towel
Hung from the rail to dry.
Requiescant in pace
Amen