Nothing stood still, there was ice cream in the air, falling.

Two mouths copied two pairs of widening eyes,

Stringing hands spread cloth over boned fresh and blooded,

Mourning stretched to the horizon like an endless splintered stare,

the breathes that could be taken so longed to be given,

for those wrapped there. What time was hovering in the streets, in the work places and homes?

Dripping wax like.

Seep seep seep shallow grave the deep.

Prune eyes on stalks, take food of forks and

If time hovered like birds hover there would be time for an answer to that question.

You can try and make it hover with a question, try and take a picture of it with a question.

But you can’t make something in to a picture, you can only take a picture of it.