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brick-red lips, chalked-in triangular eyes gazed at us: nothing; said: nothing; not-women they were suicides, trees, soft, pale, freckled branches bending over her— I knew them as my own, their cries took on the family whiskey voice, refusal, need,—their human need peeled down, tore, scratched for her life— I hacked and hacked them apart— then who knows when you murder things like that who comes in and takes over After Elegies (2) The doctors tell me, “Swim. You are beginning, moving on; yes, trailing his side, still amazed at your own body apart; yes, looking back, you don’t have to smile that way, afraid we are not here; you are beginning, leaving nothing; your friend is here with you, and you know him, and all your old desire; but in a queer tranquillity. Yourselves. No reason any more why not.” 106 door in the mountain ...

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