Analysis of Uncertainty

No one knows uncertainty like the single mother
Standing outside in her nightdress
At four in the morning with the dew-sodden
Lawn sticking to her bare feet.
Her daughter clutches the stuffed rabbit
She refused to leave behind and
Clings to her mother’s leg,
Hiding her face in fists of cotton fabric.
An infant boy squirms in the woman’s arms
And squalls against her shoulder.
His body is slick, and his face is
Redder than the flames reflected
In her glassy eyes as she stands slack-faced
Watching her present turn to smoke
To be swept away by who knows what wind.