Bells decay in the porcelain of memory
longer and purer than in the sponge of air.
So, too, do gods exist as prayers to them
to protect the baby cried to sleep
dreaming in rings, clear in the teacup sky,
both birds and their cries.
Edie Meade
Edie Meade is a writer, visual artist, and mother of four boys in Huntington, West Virginia. She is passionate about literacy and collects books like they’re going out of style. She has published two collections of poetry, "Every Day Is A Love Letter", and "Birth & Other Stages of Death". Say hi on Twitter @ediemeade.