A Prayer for Sylvia

Tonight I said a prayer
For Sylvia, and it didn’t
Matter how many candles

Were lit or not when the light
Burned the minutes and the smoke
Told time. A prayer was said,

And the past was not a lie,
As it sometimes seems.
Words form like smoke that

Curls and dissipates.
Nothing is the same as it was
Before the prayer was said,

Before even the thought of the prayer
Was an unformed cell of thought
In an uncertain minute of time.