I Was Spread Out Dailyand Examined For

Let God Be Some Tribal Female Who Is Known But Forbidden.

Suicides Have A Special Language. Like Carpenters They Want To Know Which Tools. They Never Ask Why Build.

Today God Gives Milk / And I Have The Pail.

I Am In My Own Mind. I Am Locked In The Wrong House.

For I Could Not Read Or Speak And On The Long Nights I Could Not Turn The Moon Off Or Count The Lights Of Cars Across The Ceiling.