She’s crying, Muletka
The baby won’t listen to singing,
Serenading, coo coos of the nightingale
Forget about reason; there is none.
When has everything ever had a reason?
The pundits wish us to forget that long ago,
The authority of reason was vanquished
Its victor, Bartleby, lifted a finger.
She’s quiet now, Muletka: your smile
Too curt to have made the difference,
But mine is too teethy; broken like souls
Pushed off Charles Bridge ‘til two saints are born.