For Jane With All the Love I Had Which Was Not Enough

I pick up the skirt,

I pick up the sparkling beads in black,
this thing that moved oncearound flesh,
and I call God a liar,

I say anything that movedlike thator knewmy namecould never diein the common verity of dying,
and I pick up her lovelydress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,

Jewish gods,

Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of two gone quite madwithout a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,

I lean upon this,

I lean on all of thisand I knowher dress upon my armbutthey will notgive her back to me.