I’m asking, have they sent off that bloody corpse,

or not. They write me they have,

the delay might have been caused by weather

and that I should write next Wednesday

if I was going to complain or some other corpse instead.

I don’t really know, I have time til Wednesday

to think this over. A worm betrayed another worm

and now it twines, both in dreams, and everywhere.

 

Whereas in the light from the school’s library windows

it looks as if my child’s become a stone

and says: don’t cry, woman, if I’m not crying.

Come on, close up, nothin’ to see here, nothin’ to see.