Dear Universe, dear God, dear Death, dear Life or whomever will listen
Do not claim her soul, I beg you
She is not perfect, that is true;
She makes messes with a wave of her finger
Or used to
Her mother says she is attracted to chaos
She says chaos is attracted to her
But for many a week there hasn’t been
A pen misplaced; a dress flung carelessly
Over the wooden chair by her bed
Where now there sits in her favourite gingham’s stead
Her mother, through day, through night and in between
I remember how she used to scold
Little Amie, for not cleaning the room which now stays
Here, next to death’s house
Orderly, quiet and perfectly clean
The mother, with her pale face in her trembling hands
Waits beside the little white bed
Not daring to think things yet unsaid
While beneath the sheets lies a small blonde girl
Fiery her lips, cheeks and nose
Her mouth, void of laughter, seemingly still
Breathing shallow, shivering with a chill
Intangible to everyone but her
I’m begging you, Spirit, would not you prefer
A soul that has lived, that has sinned, such as mine
Take it away, take it away, O divine
Leave little Amie, who has yet to see
The ocean, the pearly tips of rugged mountains
She told me, you know, she said she would be
The happiest girl in the world if she could
Fly with the larks and swim with the fish
Listen to the breeze bending the pines
Her mother says that she would catch cold
In such a forest, in such a lake, she did not speak of the sky.
Amie has little brown specks on her nose
Her mother says that with every undone chore
There appears a freckle more
Amie loves them, though, dearly
She said that if she and I were always together,
Her sparse little flecks could never be lonely
Look down upon me, O God, O Almighty
See how my face is bedecked in these dots
To count them, even you cannot contrive
See how many chores I have abandoned,
Dishes left soiled
Clothes piled into a bulging hill up to my chin
See how lazy I have been
O devil, O evil, malevolent king of the dark
Could, would not you make more use of me
Than of little Amie?
Who, not once in her life told a lie
Without turning pink as a fresh cherry pie
See now how she has been that way for weeks
Though falsehoods are as far from her mind
As are any words, whether silly or kind
Her brother dares not enter her room
He wanders the house like a translucent phantom
Like the ghost of a young life recently lost
Like a giggle gone still
Muffled by wood, by earth
I can see the grass growing around the stone
Fresh green blades collecting dew
Fragments, sparkling shards of the ocean that she
Little Amie
So longed to see
But on that stone, what should be engraved?
Her name, perhaps, but what is that worth?
What is anything worth, when covered with earth?
I should not think such things
You should not let me, divine
Make Amie get better
I will do anything you ask of me
Let me mine for you, dance on hot coals or glass shards
My screams would be better than the quiet of death
That reigns, here in his house
That robs me of breath
The only sounds that echo yet
Are the wracking, weak coughs
Of the girl who still lies
Beneath the white sheets
Like budding snowdrops, waiting below
Their cold white blanket
Of freshly fallen snow
We avoid each other
Here in death’s house
Our faces make us think
Of better times
When smiles were not strained
And talk bubbled freely
Like a brook unrestrained
We both fear and long to go
Peep beneath the cover of snow
But dread the despair or false hope
On us it shall throw
If only it were me, in the little white bed
Coughing up droplets of blood
Let me find my handkerchief flecked
With bright crimson specks, like the ones on our noses
Please, dear God, let me be in her stead
Take her little fist away from death’s door
Let her cease to knock
I will hammer and bang ‘till to the bones I’ll be sore
I will clamour, I will call, scream and mock
Open up, and let me step over the threshold
Into your silent, freezing embrace
Let death’s house become that of life once more
Let it be as it was, used to be, before
It shall not be
So bad without me
As little Amie
Dear Universe, Dear God
Dear Life, Death or whomever still there
When Amie throws back the blanket and jumps up once more
To her forget-me-not blue bedroom door
As she did, used to do, before
So, my soul shall be claimed, and I beg
That Amie be spared
For she is the very best person I know
Let thaw, once and for all
Her blanket of snow
And I shall lie, now and forever
Through warm and cold weather
Beneath the earth