For Jane: With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough
I pick up the skirt,I pick up the sparkling beadsin black,this thing that moved oncearound flesh,and I call God a liar,I say anything that movedlike thator knewmy namecould never diein the common verity of dying,and I pickup her lovelydress,all her loveliness gone,and I speak to all the gods,Jewish gods, Christ-gods,chips of blinking things,idols, pills, bread,fathoms, risks,knowledgeable surrender,rats in the gravy of two gone quite madwithout a chance,hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,I lean upon this,I lean on all of thisand I knowher dress upon my armbutthey will notgive her back to me.