This was the room of the finger biter
The suite of the feet
The dream
In bed
The feet, no head
The clocks
run back
In the front, sun shines
Out back, it's black
On the finger biter's bride night
His mother wept
His sister slept

This is the suite of the feet:
Under the covers
We sleep
But at the foot of the bed
The shape of a head
Beneath the sheet,
narrow shoulders,
long back,
long spine, bones bunch,
long arms clutch,
and there are two extra feet, soles up,
mocking prayer.
We do not sleep alone -
in the bed of the finger-biter
there is always company.


Dirge Without Music
Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.