The tombstone told me when she died
Her two surnames stopped me still
A virgin married at rest
She married in this pouring place
That I struck one day by luck
Before I heard in my mothers side
Or saw in the looking glass shell
The rain through her cold heart speak
And the sun killed in her face
More the thick stone cannot tell
Before she lay on a stranger's bed
With a hand plunged through her hair
Or that rainy tongue beat back
Through the devilish years and innocent deaths

To the room of a secret child
Among men later I heard it said
She cried her white-dressed limbs were bare
And her red lips were kissed black
She wept in her pain and made mouths
Talked and tore through her eyes smiled
She said:
I have long to move away but am afraid
Some life, yet unspent
Might explode out of the old lie
Burning on the ground and crackling into the air
Leave me half-blind neither by night
Ancient fear, the parting of hat of hair
Pursed lips at the receiver. Shall I fall
To death's feather. By these I would not care to die