Finally
Dancing in the circles of fen surface, she’s smiling up to the dark clouds. Her eyelids are closed, flooded with rain, soaking her night dress with bloody stains over her belly — the smudges that can’t be washed away.
But she’s smiling now. Finally.
Stares in windows around are mixed. Some people behind curtains see victim, some of them look at a murderer, and no one sees she’s smiling.
Finally.
But there, up in the attic room of blue house is that little girl with freckles shining on her face in flashing bolts, who can’t sleep tonight, sitting at a window sill of her bedroom and singing quietly:
One-two-three
one-two-three
don’t be shy
not still smile
one-two-three
one-two-three
don’t ever try
suppress your cry
one-two-three
one-two-three
don’t be shy
there’s still time
one-two-three
one-two-three
you are always free
untie your smile.
