“
When you hear her say,
'What else can an old woman do
on hills as wretched as these?'
You look right at the sky,
Clear through the bullet holes
she has for eyes.
And you look on
the cracks that begin around her eyes
spread beyond her skin
And the hills crack.
And the temples crack.
And the sky falls
with a plateglass clatter
around the shatter proof crone
who stands alone.
And you are reduced
to so much small change
in her hand.
”
”