No More Do They Sleep

No more do they sleep
where once danced
their quiet lives,

moving to that music
in light yellowed
as the powder

that was bait
and end to rats.
No more do they balance

checkbooks, worry over
headlines death-heavy,
leaden in the mind.

No more the howl
of zero'd wind
nor startled jump

at sudden garden snake.
No more, "Mother!"
and glad service

to the yawn-child
stirring in the study.
No more. Time-racked,

centered in his sullen aim,
they are tripped -- fallen,
their going -- more than I can bear.

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