Wonder if it's really come down to this
to where you should be
rocking till sunset in a wooden chair
yawning at the face of the moon?
No coded labels for you
when you smashed dolls
and bared your flat breast to the sky
away from your apartment dwelling
No letters connect you to drug store
and they let you alone
your name the only marker
in a world of miracle and pain
Still you slipped into line like a good girl
and drank your milk as society prescribed
If you still have your mouth and your heart left
Don't take them for granted
Eyes peering hands ever ready
to grab and to own you,
alas, have not gone away
Roberta Gould
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