The loft is filled with a shrill cooing.
My mother’s fuzzy silhouette rises,
Tells me to go back to sleep.
But I want to see the baby;
I’ve never heard a baby cry before.

Quick Change

There is body in the coat closet in the hall by the front door, body under the bed in plastic bins, a pile in the garage by the recycling bin.


Another brown body
hits the dust, / and our cries