Saturday, November 7, 2009
barren womanempty, i echo to the least footfall,
museums without statues, grand with pillars, porticoes, rotundas.
in my courtyard a fountain leaps and sinks back into itself,
nun-hearted and blind to the world. marble lilies
exhale their pallor like scent.
i imagine myself with a great public,
mother of a white nike and sever bald-eyed apollos.
instead, the dead injure me with attentions, and nothing can happen.
the moon lays a hand on my forehead,
blank-faced and mum as a nurse.