And (I want to argue) maybe my dead died quick for a material reason. / Maybe they went up like a forest fire from dry tinder in their heartwood: / a thin artery wall easily blasted by that lightning stroke, / a brain alight and bleeding out, / then invisible crematorium fire

on the shore / she gave birth, a Japanese soldier / stabled her with his horse. carved / teeth into dice. if they landed even /   a woman was shot. odd / & rape instead. sometimes / death can wait for a man to open his pants.

The woman with a not quite toddler on her hip weaves at a loom. / She is full of is and she is standing. How she weaves with one hand is / a mystery, even to her. But it has something to do with bone / straightness of her back.

a turtled neck for the times   i have been afraid     to stick one out for them  /   minding my own business the occasional pardon when i have not