Remember
I told you
about my mother,
long-haired and miserable.
She gnashed her teeth
and tore at her breast—
so many years with that man.
When I am with you, I am both beguiled and artless.
We are in the days of our lives
where we are all penniless in time.
But between
the modernity of your anxieties,
and my old impossibilities,
is it in me to say
that these are years that I wish to mourn?
