They found her dried tears

at the beach

beneath the sand;

in a phone booth

where calls came from;

inside Cruelty's Eye;

at the edges of Sharp Words,

in eddies whirling in Mean-Spirited Space;

in the crevices of a Frowning Brow;

in the Back Hand and redden cheeks;

in the tracks of her Child-Hood memories;

on carpeted floors

where she had lain,

face down, soul squashed.

They found her tears

at the end

had become a deluge

washed out to sea.

But they didn't find her.

She was gone;

traces of her smile

though lingered on;

her things of lace, her sad face

in the photographs,

of her name Millicent,

on her high school books.

He finally called

and she rose

on Rainbowed Air

tear by tear

fluttering high-

one by one

cleaned and cleansed

and placed

into a new-born's

baby eyes;

some were

carefully placed

inside child smiles

where joy reins.