Angela Dale | For the grace of God

Last night I dreamed

They offered me a casket with a radio

In which to bury my child



Yesterday the newspaper covered a rash of teen suicides

With the topical balm of candlelight memorials

To extinguished potential


Last Wednesday a quiet boy, but nice

Opened up classmates with two kitchen knives

Severing all ties


As of today the second grader’s been missed 42 days

Divers have stopped looking in the lake

Her guardian-abductor shot himself two weeks ago

Dead end


What curse does a mother call down

In bearing her child into

Such a world to be borne


Where suffocating satin death

Set to pop tunes

Is the dream

And the nightmare shudders to life

In the awakening

The bedroom ceiling a black canvas

For every tomorrow’s

Forsaken what if

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