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Her monologue of dark crepe with edges of light:

Mistress Adrienne, I have been given a bed with a pink dresser
In the hothouse
Joining the Concord Public Library: the walls and roof are
Glass and my privacy comes from the apple-geraniums,
Violets, ferns, marigolds, and white mayflags.
I get my meals
With the janitor and his wife and all of the books are mine
To use. I scour, sweep, and dust.
I hope you don’t think of me
As a runaway? I remember your kindness,
Your lessons in reading and writing on the piazza.
My journey was unusual. I saw some of the war

Her Name is Rose

With a boil the size of an egg
protruding from her right hip,
she knows what I must do,
and to stall me has locked herself
inside the bathroom, bargaining
for a way out.

But it’ s too late: I’ ve seen
the oozing wounds stopped up with bits
of toilet paper and tape, the scarified
pockets that crater the surface
of her arms, buttocks, thighs.

A mean fix torched her last vein
years ago, and she’ s been banging the dope
ever since, puncturing her body
like a juju doll. She wants to kick,
but not now.

Heraclitean

In goes the cafeteria worker in her hairnet.
In goes the philosophy teacher
explaining the theory of eternal
return, and Anton Stadler with his clarinet,
still owing money to Mozart. In
goes Mozart. Everyone flopped into the creel
of the happy fisherman, everyone eaten.
Every river is Lethean,
so why should we care
if it’ s not the same river? I hate
how everything changes, tree
to failing term paper, chatelaine
to beheaded plotter, drug dealer to narc.
The heart softening faster than cereal

here rests

my sister Josephine
born july in '29
and dead these 15 years
who carried a book
on every stroll.

when daddy was dying
she left the streets
and moved back home
to tend him.

her pimp came too
her Diamond Dick
and they would take turns
reading

a bible aloud through the house.
when you poem this
and you willshe would say
remember the Book of Job.

happy birthday and hope
to you Josephine
one of the easts
most wanted.

Hickety Pickety my red hen

Hickety Pickety my red hen,
She lays eggs for Farmer Ben,
Farmer Ben comes every day,
To count how many eggs lie in the hay.

She's laid five eggs today!

Hickety Pickety my red hen,
She lays eggs for Farmer Ben,
Farmer Ben comes every day,
To count how many eggs lie in the hay.

She's laid three eggs today!

Hickety Pickety my red hen,
She lays eggs for Farmer Ben,
Farmer Ben comes every day,
To count how many eggs lie in the hay.

She's laid four eggs today!

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