“Angels Combined their prayers with those Of the police, begging her to come off it. One lady promised to be her friend. “I do not want a friend,” she said. A mother offered her some nylons Stripped from her very legs. Others brought Little offerings of fruit and candy, The blind man all his flowers. If any Could be called successful, these were, For that the scene should be a ceremony Was what she wanted. “I desire Monuments,” she said. “I want to move Figuratively, as waves caress The thoughtl...ess shore. You people I know Will offer me every good thing I do not want. But please remember I died accepting them.” With that, the wind Unpinned her bulky robes, and naked As a roc’s egg, she drifted softly downward Out of the angels’ tenderness and the minds of men. II Much that is beautiful must be discarded So that we may resemble a taller Impression of ourselves. Moths climb in the flame, Alas, that wish only to be the flame: They do not lessen our stature. We twinkle under the weight Of indiscretions.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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