By two o’clock the snowstorm had begun its diagonal attack on windows overlooking East 7th. Inside, low hum of the fridge. Hard to tell
I used to think that you could choose /
your family; that what they did /
made no difference; that you could find /
They lie here side by side
in the long sleep, and I
wish I could set my ear
to the ground above them
and hear the night-talk,
those unintelligible
Small as a tablespoon, her medicine
pouch holds the fragment of a psalm sing
unto the lord a new song and strands
of black European cloth, pseudomorphs
of