With no less joy than grief and consternation
that You, not they, were the victim doomed to die,
the chosen souls saw great gates in the sky

How did someone come at last to the word for patience
and know that it was the right word or patience

Driving by it now—walking in Brownsville
is no longer safe—536 remains
the only semi-private house on the block.

The newborn fell asleep beside her mother who died in the early morning from a blood clot in her brain.
Quiet and lovely, Beth's death was a loss for millions of little girls.

Their bodies were found five miles apart in the kitchens of their homes.

Once it seemed possible, those boys
Peeking out of gun slits at the German line
Or on graves detail, wet, miserable,

For the base I prefer a paste of unscented soap, egg white, & glue or gelatin, often peroxide—
never, as do some of my competitors, chewed muslin strips or (loathsome!) bits of animal tissue!
Though receiving but five dollars each night at the lyceum (a dollar at home),

In my dream of Joseph Beuys
      I’m writing a hymn for him, a hymn
of praise, and he stares out at me

I’ve seen those paintings and I think he must hate women.
      Must hate
us. I imagine you’d say they aren’t about us, our bodies,

Nobody blames you for hurrying
Back to Paris, and missing
Most of what takes place onstage.

Come, the wood is secret
And alive. Day is not yet near.