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 grass praying it to heaven, gently pressing its head to her heart.      The devil's 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 sleep. Like father (his son made in his image) her eyelids gently closed. Lids concealing her dreams. He stood over her bed.      One deep stab kill the hourglass   Let the stand leak slowly from its body   Draw out the time until it breathes its lastspilling