i once was bent low
in
a catacomb,
light dimpling
the sides like marmalade.

now i reach through
frills and
nowhere speeches,

to shards
of being
and simple graces.

no,
i beg
the carthorse
to take me home.

it's a sunny day.
the rakes are out,
its beams
tire
my
eyes.

what else do you say
to a woman
on the edge of discovering
the truth we all came for,
the lot we all bled for,
the price we all pay
when
the doing is done.