Somewhere two hands are bleeding.
No One lotions them or rubs them cat-like
until the blood circles down the basin.
Every One everywhere is twirling her hair.
The blood dries itself to the side of the sink.
Her mother is screaming about church;
her feet are stuck to the floor.
I cover her mouth in a sweeter mouth.
I cover her hands with quieter, more peaceful hands.
Every One is washing her dishes in dirty water.
Everywhere she looks is filling up with rain.
The moon is losing the moon.
No One wonders why
the TV's gotten so big. No One cuts his hand on plates
he has dropped and has picked up again.
No One makes windows out of his chest.
Says, I'm a seashore. I'm a temple.
No One walks home alone.
Every One flickers her lights off too early.