With no less joy than grief and consternation
that You, not they, were the victim doomed to die,
the chosen souls saw great gates in the sky

How did someone come at last to the word for patience
and know that it was the right word or patience

The quicksand builders built
against the Folly of All.
They built from ancient custom.

Where the bladderwort and water lily
give way to bulrushes and pickerelweed
and cattail heads nod hugely high,

Driving by it now—walking in Brownsville
is no longer safe—536 remains
the only semi-private house on the block.

The things I saved up there—mantis legs, cat fur,
porcupine quills tied with twine. I thought
this was religion. To climb through leaves

 Between my back fence and the drainage ditch,
the county's
                no-man's land, I'd

The newborn fell asleep beside her mother who died in the early morning from a blood clot in her brain.
Quiet and lovely, Beth's death was a loss for millions of little girls.

Their bodies were found five miles apart in the kitchens of their homes.

The elation of naming, that dispassionate
stance, of course it could not last. As all

first steps it was bound to lead to that first

Once it seemed possible, those boys
Peeking out of gun slits at the German line
Or on graves detail, wet, miserable,