| 4 She has rich words She has rich words. For his friends are her friends. His beating, whipping words are hiding, bruises behind Christmas trees, holidays planned years ahead, his unwillingness to say yes. His hidden mouth on the other side of the fish pond. What luck can turn sour? When she is alone in the house she sometimes melts on the old stairs, feels the stairs, the rough wood. She’ll never understand the incurable sore which has no meaning. She just carries it with her. |