Cassandra lies in darkness/staring through new pennies. Weeping willow trees become her shroud. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches/lukewarm tea/served in cracked cups. Coffee watered down/sipped insipidly/from blue china saucers. “It goes farther,”/her mother whispers/to any one that asks. Yesterday’s cookies crumble/fall on white silk blouse. Cassandra’s favourite food/become a feast for the dead. “She looks so alive,”/everyone says. Even her father/who came half-way/across the world/to see his child/on her sixth birthday. Cassandra lies in darkness. Weeping women’s tears/blanket her in joy. They wish they could look half so good.