(She cried when she found it. Its feathers were matted and pressed to its side. Its wings were no longer able. Still she begged it to fly. Its body as frail as paper and wet from her Tears. She knelt in the damp gra** praying it to heaven. Gently pressing its head to her heart.) The devils in the daughters room There will be no second knife She reached for a dream And he smiled as he watched her She was ever so beautiful in her sleep Like father (his son made in his image) Her eylids gently closed Lids concealing her dreams He stood over her bed One deep stab k** the hourgla** Let the sand leak slowly from its body Draw out the time until its breathes its lastpilling