Sing me a song for the hollow dead

echoes in their eyes, dust for lungs

the anguish of distance and the greyness

of a sky heavy with rain. Sing to me

church bell goodbyes. Sing the way that

willows will bend, the shape of the earth.

Sing a song for the hollow-eyed living,

a hymn for the saved, or something that

sounds like salvation, or just the sounds

of sheets against the mattress, the hush of

a lover sleep-softened, a sudden startling

coldness to that side of the pillow.

Sing me a new day. Sing me renewal.