As for the clothes…

She quietly blazed
   through taciturn days
It seems to her men
   can do anything they want
His heart is a battered thing
They can’t—she’s wrong
   crazy wrong
Seeds grow differently here
   wild, luminous, unfazed
The drug makes him amorous
   and helps him sleep
All his old guides died this year
   except for one
   and he was no guide at all
The bruised heart trapped in glass
   They laugh and laugh
As for the clothes
   wrap ‘em in plastic bags
An old battered thing
Send them to charity—
   get rid of ‘em

-September 28, 2009-