When I passed away the sky lit up, it's the sweet scent and fragrance of daylight ending, the swell of clouds and permanent rain, collecting petticoat daffodils when I was one and three, the carnivorous dusk approaching, a railroad train hit me.
Everyone fell into a bad way. Caramel shells, the orchard keeper and the wooden cart, empty kitchen table and empty glass bottles. Their eyes look sad at night, the antic light on their faces from the firelight, they barely speak, the cemetery walls are made of white stone and crumbling teeth. I watch them all night even as they lay dreaming, the owl hoots, the dirty clouds bring the rain, another day approaches, the morning blackness sprent with a bitter cold and hot coal among the soon-to-be dead and dying embers of scratched out wood in the flame.