On a News Report

She says, "Oh. How
terrible. How could a man
do that to his kids."
It's such a terrible waste."
Some time earlier
today, he'd picked up his kids
for it's Saturday.
And by the time cicadas
and the sun combined
to exorcise the shadows,
and the sky's that weight,
the kids were asleep. Curled tight
like the skies and light,
their lips remained blue. And in
her chair, my mother
says how terrible it is
for all mothers. That
it's such a waste, a mother
would never do that,
vainly so as to forget
those that have.