Georgia lies in bed, eyes closed, curled into a ball, listening to the soft tick-tick-tick from the clock in the living room as it counts down the minutes until morning. The minutes tick into hours ... [+]
me
one evening
in the city
of un-
known poets
we'll talk
not a word
of the turning
world
no
but win-
dows throw
open
and listen
to the unsung in
unison
beautifully
singing