her myrrh
embalms for now
the murmur
in healthy balance
hear the word
her need
(indeed only one)
she pours over 
the word
one death ends
with a word 
for its tomb
the word 'poor' always
and the word to be 
no more
among us
a word dies 
because it does not die
on her lips
of itself
the skin of words
sleep in-turning death's portal