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The Song

That:
that it was all to end with harmonic resolve.
But the resolve came far too soon for any sounds to be interesting.

I can hear it in my sister's voice, lest anything go beyond her,
so all be encompassed: "O
K," the thing accomplished

and in the fool Frank Sinatra's.
(My first husband was a Mexican version of him,
which wasn't ok

because I'd get beaten every month
and my blue eyes would be surrounded by circles of dark color
which would turn greenish during their ten days of healing.)

When my mother was dying I did not hold her hand but let her,
as uncomfortable as that must have been for her, float
so she not be able to find attachment to anything of this universe.