Every time the door opens,
the mother bird flies off. What's left
    slumps and pulses. I determine

                If you were fired and were free to go
                  From Appalachia to
                  The Apennines, would you

At the beginning of the war, the streets resembled a promenade
of the most beautiful dogs, abandoned by their masters
who had run away from the burning town. Behind them remained

The dark madonna cut from a knot of wood
has robes whose folds make waves against the grain
and a touching face-noble in side view,

My father naked in the photo, young
again, crouched among rocks and water. It's an island,
a time so long ago he is thin,

The burnt-red fox darts in front
of the car's path late at night,
and I'd like to call this an encounter,

His difficulties the danger putting one
  foot past the other impossible
      the downcast eye captured by

1.

Max, I lean a photo of Josephine Baker
in this box lined with black construction paper,

I. After the Fall

Standing in the midst of my illness
alone. Psychiatrist gone. The work

"Bring out your dead!" and I did, roadside
service; Auntie Mame and Uncle Joe , (and Little Timmy)
    hauled away--