Betty Blue
I cracked her door on a wintry day— Waist-high rotting piles Spread beyond all hope. We drove away with a crooked mouth Her eyes on me like a galliard tree Descanting Ulysses, Joyce and more. Read me sad poems, she softly said, Crystals, rings and virgin parchments I have seen all these. Late, I brought her home and She held me close with an opera she knew— Pratzel’s closes at two! She fell down dead Day after Christmas. I ate a bagel this morning.