Sunday, May 18, 2008

Andronice


Andronice, conqueror of all men.
You have outlived them all,
those you needed most –
husband and seven children, all boys.

Andronice, not a brute force of nature,
but simply nature: juicy
prickly pear.
Thus you weave your invisibility,
Your ever-presence in this world,
Your immortality – woman.

In the end what remains is your
ageless black-kerchiefed face
from behind rain-streaked window
panes,
sad face for ever a widow.
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