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.