Mare

There is no law against evil. You buried your son aloneunder a lime tree. He was almost a boy

but they called him something else, as thoughyou had carried him up a staircase inside you

and missed a step. I never knew you with long hair,without your thick history. The light held your face

like a chisel. God was a clock hanging above usworking his gold hands backward. You spoke of heaven

as though you had been there and found itwanting. There were whole forests

you made just to lose me in—you knew I would alwayscome home. There is no law against evil.

So I learned to gather the night rainin the place a soul should be. I never ate

at that table in your mind where the other children sit,each small head bent and blank with thanks.