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i remain seated in my simple pink chair. my fingers probe at the keyboard of this computer, and i begin to type freely.

The girls drum their fingernails

Lightly

Not like real drumming

More like timid rain.

Their nails extend

Two nail lengths past

The irony is not lost on me. The day that Donald J. Trump will be inaugurated, is the same day as Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Without sound, I am adrift,
a puppet with severed strings,
my movements hollow, my purpose lost.
But when the music takes a breath
it fills the empty space,
giving weight to each movement,
meaning to each pause.

Quand j'étais petite j'aimais ma mère, 
mais maintenant j'adore la langue de ma mere.

Elle parle Français. Moi, je parle anglais
Je fais semblant je ne parle pas Français alors 
elle ne parle pas avec moi

The animals already knew when it happened. They all started dying.