Barren Woman
Empty,
I
echo
to
the
least
footfall,
Museum
without
statues,
grand
with
pillars,
porticoes,
rotundas.
In
my
courtyard
a
fountain
leaps
and
sinks
back
into
itself,
Nun-hearted
and
blind
to
the
world.
Marble
lilies
Exhale
their
pallor
like
scent.
I
imagine
myself
with
a
great
public,
Mother
of
a
white
Nike
and
several
bald-eyed
Apollos.
Instead,
the
dead
injure
me
with
attentions,
and
nothing
can
happen.
Blank-faced
and
mum
as
a
nurse.
