too late

you knew it before it was known

it is the lost that last

the things that you didn’t do

didn’t say

that made you ask

how many brains fit in a head

or

how many heads fit into a brain

there thinking about you

washing dirt off your hands

where the wooden shovel was forgotten under the rustle of leaves

of trees not yet gone

though the lives around are starting to talk of more shovels and black balloons

and a dance that needs to bring the community together

in ways the community does not understand yet

standing up tall at their gates

blabbing about how much work there is to do

and how the children need to be kept safe

with fences and outlets and

did you see how that one boy disappeared

to the unknown

how shocking another

adds

though by then

the lights are off

with the whispers suffocated

by night

*

how many deaths

remain

and how few lives

last