dead hair cannot dance
cannot argue with the breeze
cannot fall on frozen ears
cannot woo fingers or birds
scattered on a cool pillow
it cannot scare off a dream with a rustle
in silver rain it cannot get wet
cannot tremble
on a white bed
it lies gotten cold deaf
if and when a flower -- then so estranged
and if and when a smile -- then so unmoved
the sun has tiptoed off the sky
it is night already