38.

I have washed too many I have watched

dishes and clothes the moon turn

wool, porcelain, iron to blood, kicked stones

have rubbed me on empty roads

the wrong way. My children crossed purposes like swords

I have bathed in tub, lake, cut myself on thorns,

sea, and have sung briars, basilisks

them to sleep in fever and sought you

I have walled up late in the market. While others

when you should have swilled, I waited

been home, dug in the soil to return to you,

with hands too rough your hair lavender

for their years. I even played as the sun climbed

violin when you died over the vacant field