Your wind is fleeting in woodlands,
where willows mutter. And dusk is
Between us, smutted by darkness.
My heart is greedy for hearing
You carting. Your Gypsy earring
Is smarting blackness of heaven.
Departed words are so heavy
As if they are made of cast iron,
Departed words are so dire
As praying, despaired, insistent...
Oh pain of being a sister!