Bedfast now for most purposes
whatever her intent:
ninety-six next equinox
with next to no reading
nevermore for writing
nor point in ciphering further outHer hands, masters on a time
of ladle, needle, pin and pen,
clenching fast to what is left:
that which was stolen
from the broken grasp
of those she left beyond the seaSisters, brothers, and their children
born or but envisioned:
roundings-up and herdings-in,
bound with wire
barbed with flame
rendered into nameless night and fogSo she, the last of her eleven,
took up such as could be borne
clenching fast, and carried on:
she holds it still
and will not be dispossessed
just yet
Originally published in Not Necessarily
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