I had a disease. Also I was drowned, also saved.
Put your hand
on my heart, a solid or
This is the foresight.
You might think of smoking, singing together. . .
These were our neighbors, who rescued the injured.
The women are all barefoot,
the men too.
And he’s walking—
right into his shadow.
Arms extended, open as a field.
I have a lace veil on, and so does B, but we are not the bride.
”How are your eyes?” I say. She asks me
if I want to see. But I know they are just holes now.
. . .