She devours ancient poetry, singing gracefully in bathrooms and empty stalls
To the lonely ancient flickering periphery of deceased stars
That float unconsciously above suburban rooftop shingles
Calling upon formless spirits and the imprints of the dead
Her ancestors finely speaking through cracked sidewalks
And Milky Way Galaxies dissolved by thunder and wine
Upon flowering fields of goldenrod and indigo
In the peaceful grace and stillness of Midwestern midnight
She kneels amongst the silence of early morning mists
Whispering up prayers to clouds that pass like freight trains
Thoughts of tadpoles, minnows, rivers, ditches and streams
Filling up her days like shooting stars and winding paths
And the endless traces and footprints of forgotten saints