Crashing into Screen

First it is a feeling
as if each cell has frozen,
it's little wheels and cogs
shudder and stop.

When a child dies
it will be forever,
forever winter, cold
and horrible.

Now, when anything
crashes into a screendoor:
a dove, a moth, a june-bug,
the children knocking

as if they aren't aware
they are not of this world.
When I turn out the kitchen light,
for awhile they purr and flutter

singing with their deathly
voices, folding in and out
their beautiful appendages,
then so suddenly disappear.

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