ISSUE: Autumn 1980
How could it have happened
She kept saying The night
She kept saying The night
Pouring down like rain
Darkening everything
The needles of pine
The nests in the elm
The night rising out of the ground
Darkening everything
Except those little cubes
Of light beneath the peaked roofs
Her tears pouring down
Like night So dark and
Full We forgot about
The boy lying there on the lawn
Dressed all in white clothing
As if he glowed in the dark
Like a tiny cloud Her
Tears were perfect Her
Voice was beautiful The
Hideous city was never
So far away Our lives
Were never so distant
As we listened entranced by
The lovely woman Her voice
Rising with the siren
Rising beyond us
She kept saying
How could it have happened
That is my mother
Her name is Mona
That child is me
My name was Jack
