She rose to blow closed
the bald spot in her hair
She rose to blow closed
the bald spot in her hair
How can you know?
I don’t but I do,
not from in you,
but from
the brown leaf crumpled in me.
Bakery girl,
what will rid us of your sadness?
You’ve carried it and still,
and I as well,
as bells have tolled
and dusks have walled
alleys away in silence.